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Jopy 1 ' No. CLXXXVI 

...JCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. 



VICTIMS. 



^ ^omebg, in S^ree ^ctt. 



BY TOM TAYLOR. 



WITH CAST OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS COSTUMES, 
BELATIVE POSITIONS, &c., &c 



AS rCBFOBHSD AT TBI 

PEINOIPAL ENGLISH AND AMERICAN THEATRES. 



. jilK : 



SAMUEL FRENCH &. SON, 

PDBIilSHERS, 

88 East 11th St., Xlvitak Sqoaxe. 



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Samuel i^'rench 



PUBLISHER. 




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INTERNATIONAL 
DESCBIPTIVE CATALOGUE 

OP 

PLAYS, 

AND 

DEAMATIC WOEKS, 

With a Descri2)tive List of Amateur Plays and Articles. 



CONTENTS 



Page. 

Amateur Dramas, Comedies, etc 32 

Amateur Operas 42 

Articles Needed by Amateurs 45 

Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc.. . 47 

Bits of Burlesque 38 

Bound sets of Plays ] 4 

BulwerLytton's Plays 24 

Burlesque Dramas 42 

BurQt Cork 4-5 

Charade Plays 38 

Colored Fire aud Talileaux Lights. . . 4.5 

Comic Dramas for >UleCliar. oniy. 43 

Costume Books \ 2.'5 

Cumberland's Edition 19 

Darkey Dramas 39 

Dramas for Boys 42 

Drawing Room Plays 25 

Elocution Reciters and Speakers... 44 

Ethiopian Dramas ?<9 

Eveninir's Entertainment 40 

Fairy Plays 40 

French's Edition 2 

French's Enelish Operas 42 

French's Italian Operas 37 

French's Standard Minor Drama 14 

Frencli's Parlor romerties 41 

Frobisher's Popul ar Recitals 45 

Guide Books for Amateurs 41 

Grand Army Dramas 36 

Grease Paints 48 

Home Plays for Ladies 41 



How to " Make-up " 

How We Managed our Private Thea- 
tricals 

Irish Plays 

Juvenile Plays 

Lacy's Costumes 

Magnesium Tableaux Lights .■ 

Makeup Bo.x 

Miscellaneous Books 

Miscellaneous Editions of Plays 

Miscellaneous Plajs 

Mrs. Jarley's Wax Works 

New Plays 

Nigger Jokes and Stump Speeches. . . 

Parlor Magic 

Parlor Pantomimes... , 

Pieces of P easantry 

Flays for Male Characters only 

Round Games 

Scenes for Amateurs 

Scriptural and Historical Dramas... 

Sensation Dramas 

Serio-Coniic Drama" 

Shadow Pantomimes 

Shakespeare's Piays 

Sheet Mu.si" 

Tableaux Vivants 

Temperance Flavs 

Theatrical Face Preparations 

Vocal Music of Shakespeare's Plays. 
Wigs 



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FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. 

No. CLXXXVI. 



VICT IMS: 



AN 



OKIGIML COMEDY, IN THREE ACTS. 



TOM TAYLOR, Esq., 

Author of "Still Waters Bun Deep^'' "A Blighted Being" '■'■A Trip to Ki^ 

sengen," " Diogenes and his Lantern,'''' " The Philosoph6r''s Stone" " The 

Vicar of 'Wakefield," " To Parents and Guardians," " Our Clerks" 

" Little Red Riding-Hood," So., &c. And one of the Authors of 

" Masks and Faces," " Plot and PasHon," " Slave Life," " Two 

Loves and a Life," " Tlie King's Rival," " Helping Hands^ 

^'■Priiice Dorus," tfcc, <j6c., t6c. 



TO Wincn AKE ADDED, 

A Description of tho Costumes— Cast of the Cliaractera— Entrances and Exit»— 

Belativo Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the 

Stage Business. 



KEW YOKK : 

Samuel French & Sen, 

PPBtlSllEUS, 

No. l«ja Nassau Street. 



LOKDON , 

Samuel French, 

PTTBLISHER, 



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JUNE P~0. 1940 






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VICTIMS. 



ACT I. 

SCENE. — Morning room, at the Acacias, Mr. Merry weather^ s Villa, in 
the RegenVs Park. An elegantly furnished room, opening into a con- 
servatory. Chairs, lounges, a table, R. c, a couch, r. A door, e. c, 
communicating with Mrs. Merryweathcr's boudoir ; a door communi- 
cating with the hall, 2 E. r.. ; a door commniiicating with Mr, Merry- 
wealher^s dressing-room, 2 E. R. Bell. Books, prints, d;c., upon the 
table — statuettes, 4"C. 

Skimmer discovered arranging the books, ttc, on the table, brushing the 
dust from the statuettes and picture frames, with a feather brush, 4"C 
He pauses from time to time in his work, to open and read in one of 
the books. 

Skim. Poetry ! I adores poetry ! especially melancholy poetry, like Mr. 
fitzherbert's. Here's his works. [Takes up and opens books.'] What 
cutting titles, " Withered Leaves " — and here's another, " Solitudes 
of the Soul" — and his last, which missus has just been a cryin' into, 
" Ruins of the Heart." It's a great advantage to know the author of 
poems like these. He was here last night ; he's here most nights, with 
the other liter'y gents as use the house, and don't they punish the wit- 
ties neither. I suppose it's misery gives him such an appetite. [Opens 
a volume^ Beautiful ! here's language ! [Reads. 

" Around the board, all point at him, 
The lonely, unenjoying man — 
They wonder why his eyes are dim, 

They wonder why his cheek is wan — " 
Well, now, I thought he looked uncommonly jolly last night over his 
scolloped oysters. [Reads again. 

" Alas ! the banquet tempts not me, 
I find no pleasure in the bowl," 
He mopped up his cold without, too, pretty tidy. Suppose I tried a 
verse myself. [RecHes. 

" I think, for all his gloomy language, 
Expressive of sich mental anguish, 
That Mr. F. enjoyed his sandwicbi." 
But his verses is very heart-broken ! 



4 VICTIMS. 

Enler Cakfuffle, d. l. 2 e. 

Car. (l.) There you are, James Skimmer, at them books as usual, 
instead of attending to your work. 

Skim, (e.) Servants has minds, Mr. Carfuffle. 

Car Not above their situations, James Skimmer. When I was in 
livery, I had a raiud according. Now I'm out of livery, my mind is 
rose with my position ; and so mayyours, James, when you're out of 
livery. 

sicim. Ah ! if you knew how I looks forrard to that day, Mr. Car- 
fuffle. 

Car. It's natural you should, James — it's an honorable ambition. 
But you'll never do it, James, if you keeps idling your time away with 
books. [Taking book from him.] I'm afraid, James, your growing 
liter'y. 

Skim. I'm doing my best, Mr. Carfuffle. 

Car. (Sits,!,.) Beware, James Skimmers! I've knowed a great 
deal of liter'y people — I've lived in liter'y places myself, when I was in 
a humble position — and of all the uncomfortable, shabby, out-at-elbows 
families I've ever seen or 'eard tell of, liter'y families is the most so. 

Skim, (e.) But ain't ours a liter'y family ? 

Car. On the female side, James ; but master's in the city, and that 
makes all the difference. It's like one of these books, James ; missus 
finds the print, but master the Rooshia binding, and the gilt edges. 

Skim. But the company we keeps is liter'y ; you'll admit that, Mr. 
Carfuffle 1 

Car. Yes James ; and it's the one thing makes me a leetle ashamed 
of the place. To be sure, liter'y people ain't all equally contemptible. 
There's Mr. Fitzhe.fbert, now, he has something of the gentleman about 
him — 

Skim. And Mr. Butterby, too, is quite the gentleman ; often gives 
me half crowns, and sends missus flowers, reg'lar. Here's his yester- 
day's bouquet. [Bringivg down a small flower vase with molels.^ Li- 
ter'y people corresponds by bouquets. Do you know the language of 
flowers, Mr. Carfuffle 1 

Car. No, James. 

Skim. I've read about it. Let's see— what's violets 1 

Car. Two pence a bunch, James. 

Skim. Ah ! you've no poetry in you, Mr. Carfuffle. 

Car. I 'ope not, James. 

Skim. You're as bad as master. Don't you feel for misf is, Mr. 
Carfuffle 1 

Car. Why, James 1 

Skim. A bein' of sentiment and poetry, like her, tied to a plain man 
o' business like master. 

Car. Well, he is plain, James, but if you must have my opinion, I 
think master's the more to be pitied of the two. 

Skim. Lor', Mr. Carfuffle I 

Car. If I 'ad a wife, James, I know I should rather she loved, ho- 
nored, and obeyed me in the regular way, instead of giving herself airs 
with a lot of liter'y gents, and painters, and poets, and low people of 



VICTIMS. O 

that kind, who lives by their wits, and looking no more to me, except 
m regard to money, than if I was nobody in my own 'ouse. 

Merryweather. [Without, r. d.] James ! 

Skim. But hush, here's master. {^Exit Skimmer, l. d. 2 e 

Enter Merryweather from his dressing room, a. d. 2 e. 

Mer. Eleven o'clock, and no breakfast — how's this 1 

Gar. Missis particularly "rdered the breakfast was not to be laid 
sooner, as the noise disturbeo . a ; now f^e sleeps in the blue room. 

Mer. Oh, very well; then I'll have b.cakfast in the study in future. 

Car. Missis particularly ordered it should be laid here, sir, in case 
she wished to speak to you afore you went to the city. . \_Exit, h. d. 
Enter Skimmer with breakfast tray, L. d. 2 e. 

Mer. Be careful and make no noise, James. 

Skim. I 'ope, sir, you'll find me attentive to everythink that can 
spare missis any annoyance. 

Mer. That's right,, James. 

Enter Satchei-l, r. d. in f. down r. 
How's your mistress this morning, Satchell ■ 

Sat. \_Pertly.'\ She's suffering from one of her dreadful headaches, : 
sir. 

Mer. Poor dear ! I suppose I may go in, and say how sorry I am, 
Satchell. 

Sat. Oh I dear no, sir, missis can't abear being disturbed so early. 

Mer. It was very inconsiderate in me not to think of that. 

Sat. Very, sir, when poor missis is such an invalid. 

Mer. Yes [sjg^.^s], she used to enjoy such excellent health before I 
married her. 

Sat. \.Sighs.'\ Ah ! sir, ladies often changes sadly after marriage. 

Mer. So they do, Satchell. [Sighs.'\ But pray ask your mistress 
if there's anything I can do for her before going to the city. 

Sat. "Very well, sir. \^Exit, r. d. p. 

Exit Skimmer, l. d. 2 e., after having laid the table. 

Mer. [Sighs.'] Ah 1 this is not the sort of breakfast I used to pro- 
mise myself before I married Emily. I've made a terrible blunder, I'm 
afraid, and so has Emily, too. Who would have thought, though, 
from her letters, that things would have turned out in this way — un- 
affected, frank, and honest as they were ? [Opens his desk, which stands 
on small xvriting-table, l. n., and takes out letters.'] After all, I suppose 
mine were just as unlike my real self. I should have done better with 
Lucy Aiken. [Takes out letters, tied round with lock of hair.'\ Here's 
my proposal to her, with the lock of hair I purchased from her hair- 
dresser ! I was a poor clerk then, and little dreamt of succeeding to 
old Merryweather's name and business. I wonder what has become of 
Lucy. I don't think she'd have considered herself a victim if she had 
married me. [Sighs'] Ah 1 well, it can't be helped now : I must make 
the best of it 

[Replaces letters and locks desk, leaving key in Icck. A tremendous 
d-mhle knock heard. 



6 VICTIMS. 

Who can that be ? 

Enter Caefuffle, d. l. c. 

Car. Mr. Rowley ! [Exil Carfuffie, i- 

Enter Rowlet, l. 

Howley. Ah ! Merryweather, my boy. [Holding out his hand. 

Mer. [Shaking hands with Aim.] What, Jack Rowley ! how are you ! 

Row. Said I'd drop in on you one of these mornings, and here I am, 
all the way from Primrose Hill, with a two-mile-of-a-frosty-morning 
appetite: [JFtubs his hands. 

Mer. Delighted to see you — you'll stay breakfast 1 

Row. Of course I will — it's what I've come for. You know how I 
have set my heart on surprising you in the midst of your matrimonial 
comforts. Lucky dog ! [Merryweatheh sighs.^ Not like us poor 
bachelors, with the teapot for a vis-d-vis, but a pretty morning face in 
a pretty morning cap to sweeten your tea with her smiles, and butter 
your muffins with her own white hands. 

Mer. As you say, it's a great comfort — but pM-y be a little less 
boisterous — my wife sleeps in the next room. 

Row. Sleeps ! you don't mean to say she's in bed at this time in the 
morning 1 

Mer. Why, the fact is, Emily is rather an invalid, and generally 
breakfasts in her own room. 

Row. The deuce ! that's a disappointment. But never mind, we 
must do as well as we can, so order in the solids — chops, cold meat, 
eggs ; you used to be famous for your breakfasts, you know, in your 
days of single blessedness. 

Mer. Ah, yes ! how jolly it was, Rowley ! 

Row. I believe you, old boy ; but pray ring for the eatables, for I'm 
as hungry as an ornnibus driver. 

[Merryweather rings bell on table, r. c. 

Mer. I'm not sure what there is, but of course there's something. 
Enter Ski.mmer, l. d. 2 e. 
Oh ! James, ask cook to send us up something hot — a grill, or anything 
in that way. 

Row. And muffins, my boy, muffins, if you value my peace of mind 
[James is going, l. d.] And I don't see any cream ! 

Mer. Muffins, James — and cream. [Exit Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. 

Row. Well, old fellow — hang it — you don't look as lively as you used 
ta do. 

Mer. Lively ! oh ! I'm livelier than ever — much livelier. [SiyAs] 
But my wife doesn't relish a riotous display of animal spirits — she's so 
intellectual. 

Row. Humph ! 

Re-enter Skimmer, l d. 2 e. 

Skim. If you please, cook says there's no chops, and the cream was 
all used for missus's white soup, and there's no muffins, 'cause missus 
can't abear the boy's bell in the mornings, and there's no cold meat, 
'cos Mr. Hornblower, and Mr. Fitzherbert, and Mr. Butterby cleared out 
the larder last night, after the concert. [Rowley whistles. 



VICTIMS. 7 

M€r. Friends of Emily's — very superior people. 

Bow. And devilish good appetites, apparently. 

Mer. Well, this is unlucky. [ With a forced gayetyJ] Ha, ha, ha ! 
odd coincidence, isn't it ? that you should have dropped in to-day of all 
days I How very good ! 

RaWT Well, I don't sec the joke. 

Mer. You must put up with rolls, and take your tea without cream 
It's capital! you get the aroma so much purer. That will do, James. 

Skim. [^Aside.'\ 'Tother don't seem to appreciate the 'roma. 

^Exit, L. D. 3 E. 

Row. Well, if this is married happiness, it's as like bachelor misery 
as anything I ever saw in my life. 

Mer. It's provoking, I must say — extremely provoking. The fact is, 
you see, Emily is a creature of too much mind to attend to housekeep- 
ing : but in everything else she's a treasure. 

Row. Humph! 

Mer. So considerate — so afraid of giving trouble. 

Enter Satchell, e. d. f. 

Sat. Please sir, missus says, if you're going to the city, you're to 
mind and not forget the music at Crash's. 

Mer. No, no ! I'll remember. 

Sat. And to match these wools at Crochet's [Gives wools'], and 
here's the books for Hookham's [Gives books'], and the bonnet boxes 
for Madame Clochette's [Gives <Aem], and missus says you're to be 
particular in not sitting on 'em. 

Mer. There — there, that will do, Satchell, I'll be careful. 

[Exit Satchell, l. d. 2 k. 
She's so attached to me, you see — can't bear any other person to 
attend to her little commissions. 

Row. So I see. Gad I they paint the Cupid of courtship with a 
quiver on his back, but the little god of matrimony should be repre- 
sented with a porter's knot. Ha, ha, ha ! 

[Pointing ^oMerky., who is loaded with parcels. 

Mer. Oh ! you may laugh. 

Row. I know I may, I'm not married. 

Mer. Wedded life may have its burthens. 

Row. Pretty heavy ones, evidently. [Pointing to ■parcels. 

Mer. But at least they are borne in company. 

Row. Parcels Delivery Company, I should think. 

Mer. And then it's enjoyments ! 

Row. Tea without cream, and a breakfast table without muffins. 
No, no, I'm not to be humbugged ! You've made a mistake. Come, 
confess; it will relieve you. 

Mer. No, no ; I am thankful for the change in my condition [Putt 
parcels on sofa, e.], though I will own to you, I do sometimes wish 
Emily had not such extremely delicate nerves, or that mine were a litl' . 
more delicate, for then we should understand each other better. 

Row. So you don't quite understand each other 1 

Mer How should we 1 She's all genius ; I've not a spark of it 



8 VICTIMS. 

Row. And most of your friends have just as little. How does sh< 
get on with them 1 

Mer. Oh 1 you don't suppose she sees any of my friends — common- 
place men of business? Oh, no ; her friends are all what's called 
" remarkable people," poets, metaphysicians, artists ; the house is over- 
run with men of genius. I do all I can to make her happy ; but some- 
how, I don't think I've hit the right way, as yet. 

Eow. [Taking his hand^ My poor, dear old fellow, I saw you were 
out of spirits ; but I'd no idea it was as bad as this. 

Mer. You don't think me an unkind man, Rowley ■? 

Row. Unkind ! your heart's the softest place about you, except youi 
head. 

Mer. I'm not the person to thwart and bully a woman, am I ! In 
short, you wouldn't call me a brute, would you 1 

Row. You ! a brute ! 

Mer. Because I sometimes fancy I must be something of the kind. 
If you saw poor Emily's low spirits, the way she sighs, and casts her 
eyes up to the ceiling every now and then, when I'm with her, the style 
in which her friends speak of me ; in fact, between ourselves, I'm afraid 
I'm breaking her heart without in the least intending it. 

Row. My poor old boy, I've a shrewd suspicion she's breaking yours 
with her infernal airs and affectations. 

Mer. She 1 oh, no! It's my fault, I tell you. But what would you 
do in my place 1 

Row. Do ? Why first and foremost, I'd be master in my own house. 

Mer. Oh, that I am, I flatter myself. 

Row. Not a bit of it, or your wife wouldn't be in bed at this time of 
day, her d — d superior friends wouldn't be clearing out yonr larder, you 
would not be imagining yourself a brute, and your old city chums 
wouldn't be received in this style, when they dropped in to breakfast. 

Mer. Oh ! if I only knew the way to her heart, Rowley ! 

Row. What ! she doesn't love you, then 1 

Mer. She tries, I believe, but I'm not the sort of man to win the 
affections of a gifted creature like her. Oh ! if I was only an editor 
like Hornblower, or a poet like that pale, sentimental, black-bearded 
Fitzherbert. 

Row. Fitzherbert ! what Herbert Fitzherbert , The fellow that 
writes in ^e periodicals'? 

Mer. Yes 1 Do you know his writing'! 

Roio. Sorry to say I do — across a three-and-sixpenny stamp. [Show- 
ing hvo bills.'] Here's a brace of his dishonored bills for eighty-six, 
six, eight, drawn by Joshua Butterby, and accepted, payable, but not 
paid by Herbert Fitz ditto. 

Mer. It's extraordinary how these men of genius are always in 
difficulties. 

Roie. He'll be in a worse difficulty soon, for I have ordered my 
solicitor to proceed to extremities. 

Mer. What, arrest him ? No, no, Rowley, you must n't do that 
neither. Suppose you endorsed the bills to me 1 

Row. Overdue as they aie, and with notice of dishonor ! 



VICTIMS. D 

Mer. I know it's unbusiness-like, but it's out of consideration for 
Emily ; she has such a respect for him, such an admiration of his 
poetry 

Row. Hump& ! you'd better let me shut him up. Song-birds pipo 
best in cages. 

Mer. Wo, no ; Emily would break 'aer heart about it, and I cannot 
bear to give her pain, more than I can help — that is ; so give me the 
bills. [Rowley gives them.'] We'll look in at Praed's on our way tff 
the city. By-the-way, though, I forgot, you have had no breakfast. 

Row. Nor you either ; suppose you breakfast with me at the Union, 
m passant. 

Mer. A capital idea ! In the style of old times, Jack ; how I shall 
enjoy it ! 

£!nfer Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. 

■ Rcw. Of course we can't do things like you married men, but 7 
promise you a regular sample of bachelor discomfort, with all the 
luxuries of the season, muffins included 1 [^Thcy are going, when. 
Rowley, pointifig to sofa, says,] Don't forget your commissions. 

[Merrywe-^ther gets parcels, and they exeunt, l. d. 

Skim. [Taking away the breakfast things.] That Rowley's a coarse' 
man ; the same vulgar stamp as master. Absorbed in what Mr. Fitz- 
herbert calls the sordid pursuits of gain, both of 'em. If it wasn't for 
the liter'y people missus brings about the 'ouse I'd give warning to- 
morrow. But the conversation in our soire6s is really a privilege to a 
young man that aims at improvin' his mind as I do. 

[Exit with fray, l. d. 3 e. 
Enter Satchell. l. d. 2 e , showing in Mrs. Fitzherbeet, who is plainly 
dressed, mth bonnet and vail. 

Sat. You can sit down here, young woman, while I speak to missus 
about the work. 

Mrs. F. Thank you [Exit Satchell, d. in f. r. 

Another week's embroidery, and I shall have made up the two pounds 
for those bills ; and then I shan't have to worry dear Herbert for the 
money. I hope I'm not doing wrong in trying to keep out of debt, and 
procure for him the little comforts he requires so much, though he does 
know nothing about it. Thanks to my maiden name, which I borrowed ; 
for the occasion, there's no chance of my being found out. I wish, 
though, those impertinent, ill-bred men wouldn't follow one so in the 
street, and stare under one's bonnet. They see I'm poor, and unpro- 
tected ; it seems so cowardly. There was one persecuted me all the 
way to this door— such a fool, too. 

Re-enter Satchell, with a parcel, d. f. e. 

Sat. (r.) Here are half-a-dozen more caps, to be worked in the same 
pattern as the last, at three- and-sixpence a-piece, you know. 

Mrs. F. (c.) Thank you. 

Sat. Mind, they must be ready against next Wednesday. 

Mrs. F. Next Wednesday ! I shall have to sit up the greater part of 
every night to nnish them. 



10 VICTIMS. 

Sal. That's no business of ours. 

M7-S. F. No ; but please the last are not paid for, I think — [Ttmid/y,] 
and if — if Mrs. Merryweather could — 

Sat. \Pcrtly.'\ Oh ! you want the money — I'll tell Missus ; of course, 
it's always the way when one employs people out of charity. 

\Ezit, K. D. p. 

Enter Skimmkk, d. l. 2 e., showing in Butteeby, who carries in hit 
hand a bouquet wrapped m paper. 

Sutter. [Aside.'] There she is ! ^To Skimmer.] Very well, I'll 
wait; he said he'd be here at twelve. [Exit. Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. 

[/ft a jaunty manner.] Well, my dear, I said we should certainly be 
better acquainted, and here we are, you see, tele d tete. By Jove, now, 
don't " turn, oh turn, those eyes away" — I'm harmless, perfectly harm- 
less. I only want another peep into those blue depths — " Lights that 
do mislead the morn." 

Mrs. F. Pray, cease talking such nonsense, sir. 

Butter. It's not nonsense — it's poetry — the language of paesion ! 
(Mrs. FiTZHERBERT lowers her vail^ Hal now why put dawn your 
vaill It's no use — it only adds the charm of mystery to your other 
charms. 

Mrs. F. I'll call the servants, if you go on, sir. 

Butter. Oh ! pooh, stuff, you know you wont do anything of the kind 
— my importunities are flattering. By Jove, I'm struck with you, I 
am, by Jove ! [-4sirfe.] Not a word. Hang me if I don't tempt her 
with Fitz's bouquet, which I was to leave for Mrs. Merryweather. 

[Takes bouquet from paper. 

Mrs. F. Will that girl never come? back 1 

Butter. Look, here are lovely flowers — let me present them to their 
sister — " Sweets to the sweet." 

" I offer thee a rosy wreath. 

Not so much honoring thee — ^ 

Mrs. F. As insulting me, sir ! 

[Crosses to i,. — she puts away thejlotcers. 
Butter. No, no, by Jove, don't be so cruelly cold — so impregnably 
adamantine. 

Enter Satchell, d. e. f. 

Sat. Flirting with Mr. B. — I thought she was no better than she 
should be. Here's the money, young woman, and as we're not used 
to being dunned, wc will not trouble you with any more work after 
those caps are finished 

Mrs. F. Oh ! say I'm very sorry, please. I didn't mean — if not per 
fectly convenient — 

Sat. Convenient ! — well, to be sure, making a convenience of us ! 

[Exit, with a toss of her head, D. r. f. 

Mis. F. Ah ! she wouldn't be so cruel ; if she knew how I want the 
nooncy for dear baby and for Herbert — [Gcing u 

Butter. [Detaining he ] Now, don't go. 



VICTIMS. 11 

Mrs. F. Once for all, sir, I beg you'll not insul^^ me. I jim not un- 
protected — and if I should be forced to appeal to my husband — 

Butter. Husband I — pooh, an old dodge. Now, I say — 

Mn. F. Oh! sir, why do you persecute me in this wayl 

• [/SAe breaks away and exits, i. d. 2 e. 

Butter. Gone 1 — she was a vision of delight ! — I'll follow her. A 
delicious figure — slight, but undulating — quite Wordsworthian — 

" A creature not too bright or good 
For human creatures' daily food, 

as Fitz would say. Yes, by Jove, a human creature must have his daily 
food ; I'm not married yet, and Miss Crane is not here. But I must 
leave Fitz's bouquet — '[Eingsl — or he'll never forgive me. 

Enter Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. 

Mind Mrs. Merryweather has this bouquet. Skimmer, and not a word 
who it comes from, you know. 

Skim. Certainly not, sir. [Puts it in a vase, and exits, L. D. 2 B. 

Butter. \^Loohing out of the window, c] There she goes out of the 
shrubbery. Now, Butterby, be yourself — be irresistible, Butterby, my 
boy ! \,As he is rushing out l. d. 2 e., he suddenly starts back.} Miss 
Crane, by Jingo ! 

Enter Miss Minerva Crane, shown in ^y Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. who exits, 
L. D. 2 c. 

Miss C. Joshua ! 

Butter. Minerva ! 

Miss O. One moment, Joshua, and this feminine weakness will have 
been surmounted. A chair, Joshua ! 

Butter, Yes, Minerva, [He places one — both sit. 

Miss 0. (r. c.) I expected to find my gifted friend Emily, and the 
sight of you, Joshua, afiected me. 

Butter, (r,. c.) Exactly the effect which the sudden sight of you, 
Minerva, had on me. 

Miss C. In the delicate relation in which we are placed — 

Butter. Yes, going to be married next week — 

Miss C. [Moving her chair away.] You must feel the impropriety of 
our remaining together, Joshua. 

Butter. Well, now, Minerva, considering we're to remain together 
for our natural lives, after next week, I should have thought it the most 
proper thing in the world. 

Miss C. With ordinary women it might be, Joshua — but, you know, 
1 am not an ordinary woman. 

Butter. That you certainly are not, Minerva I Both mentally and 
physically you are a phenomenon. . 

Miss O. [Waving her hand.} I am aware Joshua appreciates his 
Minerva— that he admires in her, not the external graces, but the 
mental gifts ; the devotion with which she has embraced her great idea, 
the spirit in which she has entered on the noble cause of Female 
Emancipation ! Is it not so, my Joshua 1 



12 VICTIMS. 

Butter. [Aside."] By Jove ! how she talks. [Aloud.'] It is exactly 
so, my Minerva ! 

Miss C. Then, let us have no unworthy weakness, Joshua. If I 
marry, do you think it is for that vulgar happiness usually sought in 
fcuch unions 1 

Butler. Eh 1 well, I certainly had that impression. 

Miss C. Dismiss it ! I take the chain of matrimony that I may ba 
more free. 

Butter. [Aside.] A nice look-out for mc ! 

Miss O. More untrammelled in my missionary labors. In you I 
have found a mind that can rise to the height of my idea. Your de- 
votion to our mutual friend, <he gifted Fitzherbert — your sympathy 
with this suffering angel, Mrs. Merryweaiher — first taught me that, 
under that exterior — 

Butter. Minerva ! 

Miss C. However, at first sight, unprepossessing and even vulgar^ — 

Butter. Hang it ! Minerva ! 

Miss 0. Was enshrined a great soul — a heroic nature ! 

Butter. Yes, certainly, Minerva. Still my appearance — 

MissC. Might have repelled most of my sex. But, as I said before, 
I am not an ordinary woman. 

Butter. No — but, you know, one doesn't like to be made out such an 
ordinary man, neither. 

Miss C. [With a smile of superiority^ I had supposed you above 
"such weaknesses, Joshua. Do not let me have reason to suspect that 
I have misconstrued you. [d. e. in f. opens — Miss Crane waves her 
hand with dignity.] But enough — here comes our suffering friend — I 
would not she fdund us together. Retire, Joshua, to the garden. 

Butter. [Aside.] Confound it ! Minerva is certainly a wonderful 
creature ! — wonderful ! — but she might have a little regard for one's 
feelings ! I wonder how she'd like to be spoken to in this way herself. 
However, I shall be master next week, and, by Jove ! I'll let Minerva 
see what's what then. [Exit. 

Enter Mrs. Mereyweather, e. d. f., leaning- on Satchell's arm— 
Satchell wheels forward an easy chair. 

Miss G. My dear Emily ! 

Mrs. M. Good morning, dear ! Thank you — that will do. Satchell 
[She sits — Satchell retires, r. d. f., after gelling footstool, arrang 
ing smelling bottle , shawls, tf c. 
Miss G. And how is my poor sufferer this morning 1 
Mrs. M. No worse than usual, dear Miss Crane ; and, alas I no better 
Miss C. You are looking more interesting than ever. What a 
lovely Cashmere ! 

Mrs. M. Yes, Mr. Merryweather bought it me j'esterday. Alas ! 

[Sighs. 
Miss C. Ah ! I understand that sigh. The mention of his name. 
Mrs. M. He means kindly, dear Miss Crane. Do not be hard or 
him. 

Mist G. Ah ! I know the forgivingness of your angel nature. 



VICTIMS. 13 

Mrs. M. lit J — suffering is the lot of &11 our sex. If it come to 
mo in the form of union with a being who cannot sympathize with me 
— with whom I cannot sympathize — let me endure in silence. It is 
my duty. 

Miss O. Ah ! in the present unnatural state of society — it may be 
our dtlty to bow the km a to stoop the neck, and even to bridle thw 
tongue — but it shall not oe so always ; when I marry, dear Emily, I 
■will show a different example. 

Mrs. M. [^Smiling.J It is well Mr. Butterby is not with'n hearing. 

Miss C. Oh! Joshua understands me. He feels, as I do, that 
woman's mission is anything but swimission. I've taught him the 
rudiments of the question, and after we are married, I'll complete the 
lesson. 

Mrs. M. Ah! why have I not your strength of mind and body, and 
then I could shatter the chain that now galls me. A pretty bracelet, 
dear, don't you think so 1 [Showing' bracelet. 

Miss O. Yes, sweet, indeed ! Turquoise and silver goes so well with 
the sweet pallor of your complexion. 

Mrs. M. Flatterer! 

Mlss G. I know whose taste it is — I'm sure I do ! Ah I don't blush 
— own it is the choice of our gifted friend, Fitzherbert, 

Mrs. M. No, indeed ! it was Mr. Merrywcather presented it to me. 

Mrs. G. Indeed ! I should not have expected anything so pretty 
from ham. 

Mrs. M. I hope you do not think I would receive any present from 
Mr. Fitzherbert. 

Miss C. Oh, we are able to defy the shallow rules of whr.t triflers 
call society. 

Mrs. M. No, from him I accept only sympathy, and flow<..'i. This 
bouquet — it comes from him, I feel it does. Sweet flower*' The best 
exponents of feelir^gs like his. 

3fiss G. Have you seen him this morning 1 

Mrs. M. No ! these flowers came like fairy gifts — witlsout hands. 

Miss G. How interesting he was last night after tho concert ; and 
Hornblower was great — great, indeed. 

Mrs. M. Yes, I am happy at least in my friends. But. did you not 
think Herbert looked wan and unhappy 1 

Miss C. My dear, I never stoop to notice faces — I see minds, nothing 
but minds, and lighted by mind the most ordinary features become 
beautiful — even Joshua's 

Mrs. M. I am sure Rei-bert has a secret sorrow : do you know any- 
thing of his private history? — where he lives? 

Miss G. Nothing — his life is mystery. 

Mrs. M. What a charm that gives him ; I wish I knew why he looks 
so pale, why he sighs so often, why Le fixes his eyes so on me, when 
in spite of myself I reveal the suffe.-ii.gs avtdei v/!:ich I am sinking, 
why he never eats anything ! 

Miss G. Eats ! — Genius is like the csm-«l*on. it ^ke^ sH <;\'<)"-p, and 
lives upon air. As to his history, de^^r, I've n^t a notion, but I'lL aek 



14 VICTIMS. 

Jo&hua. You know what friends they arc. That, after all, is one of 
Joshua's fine traits — his enthusiastic appreciation of his friend «. 

Mrs M. Yes — as Mr. Merry weather coarsely says of him, "All his 
geese are swans." 

Miss G. An elevated nature would have said, " All his swans are 
eagles." Suppose I question him a little about Fitzherbert, he's in 
the garden \ [Going, reiurnsl^ By-the-way, though, I had forgotten 
one thing — here's the address of that young pianist, which I promised 
you last night. I understand it is a charity to employ her, and I know 
your great luxury is doing good. [Gives card. 

Mrs.M. [Reads card.] "Lucy Aiken, 3 Harriet Street, Belgrave 
Square." Thank you — meanwhile, I will try and get a little rest — I 
feel languid. 

Miss C. I've brought you my last volume. [Taking book from bag,] 
" The Wrongs of Woman." In Chapter III., I treat of ill-assorted 
marriages. I've had your sad case m my eye all through. It will 
amuse you — it is thought to be harrowing ; I wrote it with a bleeding 
heart. [JExif, c. 

Mrs. M. Ill-assorted marriages ! Yes ! I should have been a poet's 
wife — to have shared in his aspirations, partaken his hopes, exulted in 
his fame ! Oh, Fitzherbert — Fitzherbert, why did we not meet 'ere I 
had become the wife of one who cannot understand me ? The very 
name, Merry weather, is redolent of vulgar happiness. How poorly his 
bracelet shows by the side of Herbert's flowers ! How can he love 
sie 1 He says he does; but there cannot be any real attachment between 
natures so uncongenial as ours ; besides, if he loved me, would he 
leave me thus, sad and suffering as I am ] He says it is for business ; 
how do I know — havfe I his confidence ] Does he ever tell me of his 
plans — of his friends — of his amusements 1 I promised to tell Herbert 
how I was to day — I will write to him. [j4pproaches writing table l.] 
My husband's desk — and the key in it! Strange ! he generally keeps it 
so carefully locked. [She takes hold of the key.] How easily the key 
turns in the lock! I declare it has opened. What's this? [JExamines 
contents of box.'] My letters — the utterance of my foolish, girlish heart, 
when I thought I loved him. And this 1 a lock of hair, and not mine ; 
and this packet 1 " My letters to dear Lucy Aiken." Lucy Aiken ! 
the name on that card ! No date to the letters. Oh, if he could be 
deceiving me, then, indeed, my cup of misery would be full to the 
brim. [She sinks on the sofa and puts her handkerchief to her eyes.] I 
knew I didn't love him, but I thought he loved me. 

Enter Skimmer i.. d. 2 e. 
Skim. [Announcing.] Mr. Fitzherbert. 

Enter Fitzheebekt, l. d. 2 e., and, exit. Skimmer, l. d. 2 e. 
Fitz. [Aside.] So ! my bouquet by her side ! My dear Mrs. Merryi 
weather, you are ill — I disturb you. 

Mrs. M. (e. c.) No, no — stay, Her — Mr. Fitzherbert — you are always 
welcome, you know. 

Fitz. Ever kind ! [He sits.] I could not rest until I had assured my- 
self that you were not worse for the excitement of last night. 



VICTIMS. 15 

Mrs. M. Oh, no — music never overpowers me. 

Fitz. Ah 1 there is some music shakes me to the centre — when jrou 
were at the piano last night — 

" My spirit like a charmed hark did float 
* Upon the silver waves of that sweet singing !" 

Mrs. M. You never sing 

Fitz. Never ! Poets are like swans — when we become vocal, 'tis in 
the hour of their closing agony. 

Mrs. M. But despair must not be kept locked in the heart, or it may 
shatter it. 

Fitz. What matter when the heart is already in ruins — besides we 
have our pens. 

Mrs. M. Oh ! if you knew the comfort your poems have been to me 
— their melancholy cadence falls like an echo of my own sighs. Griefs 
I have never confided to human ears are laid bare in your verses. 
Filz. How mysterious is the free-masonry of suffering 1 
Mrs. M. Alas 1 

Filz, What is life without sympathy 1 "When the solitary heart 
yearns in vain for a heart to respond to its pulsations — when the lonely 
soul groups blindly for its kindred soul and finds it not. This agony 
which I have clothed in words — this agony yon feel — is it not so ? 

Mrs. M. Why should I conceal it from you ] But you, too, have 
felt it \ 

Fitz. — Have I noti but I am a man, and can bear it. Besides, wc 
may rebel — you can only suffer. 
Mrs. M. It is too — too true. 

Filz. [^Passionately. '\ And so, souls that were formed to understand 
and answer to each other, by the cruel chances of the world, must stand 
afar off, and measure the happiness that might have been, by the 
misery that is. 

Mrs. M. Oh I that it were in my power to console you — to probe your 
griefs with no ungentle hand. 

Fitz. No, I must suffer alone. To reveal the dark chapters of my 
fate were but to deepen the gloom of yours. But you received my 
flowers 1 

Mrs. M. Oh, yes ! 
Fitz. And you are not offended 1 

Mrs.M. Offended ! Oh, Mr. Fitzherbert, what offence can come of 
eympathy so conveyed 1 
Fitz. {Sighs.'] Alas ! 
Mrs. M. You sigh ! 

Fitz. It is so habitual with me, I know not when or why I do it. 
Mrs. M. You have some hidden sorrow ; I know you have something 
that is preying on your heart. 
Fitz. Ah, if'l durst— 

Mrs. M. Confide it in me 1 You may — endurance has made me 
%uick to feel, strong to comfort. 

h'itz. No, no ! why hariss you with the tale of blighted hopea, 



16 VICTIMS. 

baffled aspiration, misplaced affection — and all these aggravated by the 
ignoble chafe of pecuniary embarrassment 1 

Mrs. M. That, at least, I can free you from. I am rich — let me have 
the pride of thinking some of the dross m'y husband prizes so highly 
has gone to alleviate a poet's pang. \_Takes out the note case 

Filz. No, no, most noble of women, you distress me. It is true, 
that yielding to the urgent demands of a friend, I had accepted bills. 

Mrs. M. There is a hundred pounds here — oh, take it pray — pray 
lake it — as a loan merely — I cannot bear to think of you exposed to 
the hardship of a prison. 

Fitz. Oh, woman ! woman ! How sublime are thou in thy inspira- 
tions of pity ! \_Falls on his knees.^ Let me thus, on my knees — 

[^Seizing her hand. 

Mrs. M. No, pray — Mr. Fitzherbert — get up, sir — pray. 

Enter Merkyweather from the conservatory, c. — he pauses and starts 

Mrs. M. ICatchivg sight of him. 1 My husband ! 

Fitz. Yes, I think that is the way we had better manage it. [Mer- 
RYWEATHEE comcs forward, 'B..'] Ah, Mr. Merry weather, we were re- 
hearsing for our tableau vivant this evening — Paolo and Francesca, you 
know. 

Mer. x\h, just at the moment when they are discovered by the hus- 
band ; your expressions are capital, both of them. But the rehearsal 
has fatigued you, my love — you are pale. 

Mrs. M. It has overpowered me a little. 

Mer. Mr. Fitzherbert throws so much earnestness into his acting 

Fitz. Yes, I give way to the illusion of the scene too much. 

Mer. A good deah, I think. 

Fitz. I shall never forgive myself if I have tired Mrs. Merryweather 
— I must repair my indiscretion by adjourning the rehearsal ; good 
morning. 

Mer. Pray don't let me interrupt you. I have merely entered for 
the books I want. 

Fitz. No, no ! \ Aside.'] He doesn't suspect anything. [Aloud.] 1 
really rnust do penance ; good morning. [^otJc] Just before I had 
accepted the loan, too. Provoking ! [Aloud ] Good morning. 

[Exit, h. D. 2 E. 

Mer. Can I not help you, Emily 1 

Mrs. M. I will not trouble you. He has tired me sadly. I feel faint. 
Will you ring for Satchell 1 [Merryweather rings^ I will lie down 
for a moment in my own room ; a little rest will do me good. 

Enter Satchell, r. d. f. 
[Aside^ Oh, he saw Herbert on his knees — I am sure he did. He 
does not .i^e me or he would be much more agitated. 

[Exit, R. p. r., leaning on Satcheli,. 

Mer. [Walks up and. down two or three times.] Can it be truel were 

they really only rehearsing— or are they imposing on my simplicity ! 

Oh ! Emily — Emily, I knew you did not love me — but to allow another 

v-and when I would give my right hand to snare her a moment's pain. 



VICTIMS. 



17 



No, I deserve such a return so little, that I will not believe it, [Si/s.] 
And yet this Fitzherbert is constantly here in my absence. He under- 
stands her — and then his infernal poetry. [Catches sight of bouquet.^ 
I wonder where those flowers came from 1 They were not here when 
I left the house this morning. [Rings.] From him — I'll be sworn 
they are. 

Enter Skimmee, l. d. 3 E. 

Who brought these flowers ! 

Skim. The bouquet, sirl 

Mer. Yes, sir, answer me at once. 

Skim. Mr. Butterby, sir. 

Mer. You are sure of it 1 

Skim. Yes, sir — he giv' them to my own 'ands, sir, and part'c'ly 
told me I wasn't to tell anybody who they came from, 

Mer. Oh ! that will do, James — you may go . 

[Uxit Skimmeb, l. w. 2 e. 
Butterby ! Ha, ha, ha ! To think I should have tormented myself 
about a present of Butterby's. What an ass I am, to be sure • They 
were rehearsing — of course they were. 

Enter Miss Crane from garden, c. 
Ah, Miss Crane ! 

Miss C. 1 expected to find Emily — 

Mer. She has gone to lie down a little ; she is fatigued with hei 
rehearsal. 

Miss G. Rehearsal ! 

Mer. Yes, one of to-night's tableaux vivants, with Mr. Fitzherbert ; 
I found them at it. By-the-way, here's a bouquet, which I think you 
have more claim to than Emily. [Presenii it. 

Miss C. Sir ! 

Mer. Oh, it's not from me — it's from Mr. Butterby. 

Miss G. From Mr. Butterby ! 

Mer. James informs me he left it this morning. It does great credit 
to his taste. 

Miss G. [Aside.] What can he meanl Joshua send bouquets to 
Emily. [Takes it — finding note in the middle.'] What's this 1 Verses! 
[Mcads.'^ Oh ! [Screams 

Mer. A note — in the bouquet! Miss Crane ! 

Enter Butterby /ro?7i the garden, c. d(yion l. 

But. Minerva's voice ! what's the matter 1 

Miss C. Leave me, monster ! 
, But. [To Merryweathee.] You are to leave her ! monster! 

Miss G. No, you, sir I Leave me! 

But. But, Minerva — 

Miss G. 'l^en, sir, I will leave you ! all is at an end between us. 
Make way, sir — you arc beneath my resentment. I hate you ! 

[Exit majestically, l. D. 2 K 

But. Is Minerva mad ? Do you know what has thus "shaken her 
remarkably firm mind, Mr. Merry weather 1 



Ig VICTIMS. 

Mtr. Your bouquet, yonder — she's jealous of my wife. Ha, ha, ha! 

But. Nonsense I it's not my bouquet, it's Fitz's — he asked me to 
eave it — 

Mer. His ! Then that note — 

But. What note 1 

Mer. \Seizing the note, aside.l In his hand ! Oh, Emily — Emily ! 

But, lAghast.'] Another case of spontaneous combustion. Oh, for 
goodness sake, what is the matter 1 [^Sinks into chair, uo/k. table. 

TABLEAU. END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 

SCENE. — The Silting' Room, in Fitzherbert^s Lodgings. The room ia 
comfortably furnished. Books are strewn about; a writing-table, with 
manuscripts, and other indications of literary labor, r. ; a pianoforte, 
L. ; some prints, in handsome frames, cj-c. ,* sofa, chair.<i, round table, 
and writing table. Window in flat, b. Door in flat, i.., communi- 
cating with bedroom; doors e. 3 e. and l 2 e., one leading to the stairs, 
the oilier to the back stairs. Fireplace, k. 

Mrs. Fitzherbert discovered. 

Mrs. F. Four o'clock ! Herbert will soon be home ; let me see if 
all is ready for him. He shall find his dressing-gown nice and warm 
[Hangs it before firh], and his slippers. [Puis them before fender.} I must 
embroider a new pair soon — dear fellow — and his chair, with my own 
work. [ Wheels a worked chair near Ike fire.'] There ! all looks very 
cozy — and I've put fresh ink in the stand, and mended his pens. How 
proud I am to think that I can mend the pens he writes his beautiful 
verses with. And now I must get on with these troublesome caps of 
Mrs. Merryweather's, while baby's asleep. [She sits down to work.^ He 
grows more like dear Herbert every day. [A knock at the door, k. 3 
E.] Come in ! 

FInter Mrs. Sharp, r. d. 3 e. 
Oh 1 Mrs. Sharp ! Good afternoon 1 

Mrs. S- (a.) [Presenting a paper.l If you please, mum, a man have 
left this bill, and will be obliged if it could be settled at once. 

Mrs. F. (a. c.) A bill ! [Aside.] How provoking! Tell him. if you 
please, that Mr. Fitzherbert is not at home ; but that he shall have it 
when he comes in, directly. 

Mrs. S. He says he's been three times already, mum. 

Mrs. F. I'm very sorry, I'm sure. [Looks at bill.'] For flowers, one 
pound twelve shillings. 

Mrs. S. And I'd be much obliged, mum, if you could settle the rent. 
There's nearly a month owing, you know, and if I have to wait for my 
money, other parties has to wait for theirs ; and it was understood the 
apartments was took by the week. 



VICTIMS. 19 

Mrs. F. Yes, I'm sure, Mrs. Sharp, if I had the money you should 
»e paid directly, but — 

Mrs. S, Yes, mum, but good will won't pay butchers and baiters, you 
know — and when parties can find money for flowers, and pianos, and 
pictures^it's only nat'ral, you see — 

Mrs. F. Dear Mrs. Sharp, don't be angry, I'm so sorry ; but, if you'd 
only wait a little — such a very little — \coaxiTigly\ you don't know how 
rich I shall be soon. Now, do. 

Mrs. S. Ah, well, you're an angel, that's what you are ! But as for 
Mr. Fitz — 

Mrs. F. Now, Mrs. Sharp. [Slops her mouth playfully.'] You really 
sha'n't say a word against my husband. 

Mrs. S. He ought to be ashamed of himself, lettin' you toil and moil 
— and so I'll tell him. 

Mrs. F. Oh, now, dear Mrs. Sharp, you promised to keep my secret. 

Mrs. S. Yes, that I did, certainly, and to take in letters and mes- 
sages for Miss Aiken. 

Mrs. F. It's my maiden name, Mrs. Sharp ; you sec, my husband 
would be angry if he knew I worked and gave music lessons. He's of 
a much higher family than I am, and it is natural he should be proud. 

Mrs. S. It would be better if his pride set him earnin' money to pay 
his debts. But I don't want to hurt you, mem, I'm sure, and I'll say 
nothing more about .t. But the rent I must have, and so you may tell 
Mr. Fitzherbert. \^Exit, r. d. 3 e. 

Mrs. F. Oh, if dear Herbert would only be a little more careful. One 
pound twelve for flowers I and I'm sure we could get on very well with- 
out a piano — and all those prints, too. {Changing her lone.'] What a 
selfish, thoughtless thing I ami As if I could understand how neces- 
sary flowers and music and beautiful faces are to a poet like Herbert ! 
When I think that he stooped to marry me, I ought to be too glad to 
aid him out of my little earnings. I hope Miss Crane has persuaded 
her rich friend to engage me to play at her soiree. That will be ten 
shillings towards the rent — and then, for my caps, let me see, I shall 
have — Hark ! — dear Herbert's step 1 Bless him ! — I must put away 
"my work. He doesn't like it. 

\_She jumps up, and puts away her work-basket in the drawer of th« 
table, but leaves cap on table, and runs to the door, h. 2 e, 

Fnter Fitzheebert, l. 2 e. 

[She runs up to him and throws her arms around his neck. 

I'm so glad you've come back, dear — I've everything ready for you. 
See, here's your dressing-gown, and your slippers, and your own, own 
chair. 

[He puts on dressing-gown, and sits in chair, R., without speaking. 
And if you feel in the humor for writing, I've mended plenty of pens— . 
and here's a new quire of paper — 

Mtz. (r.) [.Shaking his head impatientlt).'] For Heaven's sake do 
^ntrive to hold your tongue for an instant, Lucy, you distract me. 
Mrs. F. (e. c.) I beg your pardon, love — I'm very thoughtless. 



20 VICTIMS. 

Fitz. And here you've been at your old tricks, deranging all my 
papers. How often have I told you I would not have my papers dis- 
turbed ? 

Mrs. F. I'm very sorry — I thought — 

Fitz. Oh, no explanations, pray — -1 hate discussion. You've done 
exactly what you ought not to have done, and there's an end of it. 

Mrs. F. Yes, dear, I'll be a good girl in future. 

[^Hcr voice falters. 

Fitz. There, now you're going to cry. What in earth have I said 
or done that you should whimper atl 

Mrs. F. Nothing, dear, I'm sure — 

Fitz. When I come home, harrassed by all sorts of difficulties and 
botherations, instead of the comfort of a quiet fire-side, I'm to be treated 
to a scene ! But you women have no consideration. 

Mrs. F. I beg your pardon, dearest — 

Fitz. There again, Lucy — can't you let the matter drop! Any 
letters come since I've been out 1 

Mrs. F. Only this, dear. [^Holding bill. 

Fitz. Well, why can't you give it me ? 

Mrs. F, It's a bill, dear, from Covent Garden, for flowers. 

Filz. [Takes it, and, crumples it up.'] Confound those Jews ! — they're 
always in such an infernal hurry for their money. \_Flings bill on one 
side.^ It would serve the old witch right if 1 never bought another 
bouquet at her rascally shop. 

Mrs. F. And Mrs. Sharp has been up again about the rent. 

Fitz. Yes, that's right, let me hear of every infernal dun who has? 
been clamoring and pressing, do! You've chosen your time well, 
just when judgment has very likely been entered upon those bills of 
Butterby's, and I may be arrested at any moment. 

[Rises and crosses to l 

Fitz. Yes — arrested. You don't suppose, because I'm a man of 
genius, and a poet — because I've hampered myself with a wife and 
a child — that the law will forego its prey 1 

Mrs. F. Oh, Herbert, dear Herbert! can nothing be done — Mr. 
Butterbyl 

: Filz. He hasn't a farthing to spare. After his marriage with Miss 
Crane he may he able to do something. 

Mrs. F. But the publishers — your friend, Mr. Hornblowerl 

Filz. He I He'd see me rot in the Bench before he'd advance me a 
shilling. Besides, I'm twenty pounds in his debt for contributions al- 
ready. [ Walk.i about from l. to r. and back.] Good Heaven I how 
is a man to whip imagination into a gallop with all this weight of em- 
barrassment on his back ! A poet ! a being who should be lodged in 
a palace, lulled by sweet sounds, intoxicated by delicious odors, 
inspired by beautiful forms, surrounded with all appliances of repose, 
and luxury — pent up here in a mean lodging — dunned for money — 
distracted by the cares of a family — how is it possible that I can reveal 
to the world the powers that lie dormant within me 1 But I forgot. 
How should you understand these sufferings 1 

Mrs. F. I understand but little, dear ! 1 am very simple, but I love 



VICTIMS. 31 

you very much, and my only prayer is that I may be able to help and 
comfort my husband. 

Fitz. Yes, you're a good girl, Lucy — ^but it has been your misfortune 
to marry a man whose mind dwells in a different region from yours, 
and you jnust take the consequences. 

Mrs. P. Oh, I would take them were they twenty times as hard to 
bear, if I could only comfort you a little. 

Filz. You do your best — I know you do — I appreciate your good 
intentions. [Crosses back to chair, r., and sits. 

Mrs. F. Thank you, dear Herbert, I am sure you do. [She sits on a 
footstool on his L. side, and takes his hand.] Believe me, dear, 1 am 
sensible of all you have done forme — how you have forgone all that 
your birth and genius could have commanded, to link yourself to a poor 
girl with no fortune, no talents — nothing, in short, but her strong love 
and honest heart to give in exchange for the name of your wife. 

Fitz. I believe it, Lucy — I am sure you feel the sacrifice I have made 
for you. 

Mrs. F. Oh yes ! and now, dear, they say a woman's tongue is per- 
suasive, you know ; suppose you were to let me see Mr. Hornblower, 
and try to induce him to advance you something 1 I'll tell him you're 
going to be so diligent, and so brilliant — but that he knows already. 

Fitz. — No, no — you remember our compact — that, for a time at least, 
our marriage was to be kept a secret. 

Mrs. F. Yes, I submit to that — to anything you like to impose, but I 
thought that now, perhaps — 

Filz. No ; we must keep the secret a little longer ; you have no no- 
tion how the knowledge that I am married would diminish people's 
interest in me — the ladies especially — and interest is all I have to trust 
to, as yet. 

Mrs. F. I'm sure if they knew your talents somebody must give you 
something. 

Fitz. [Rises and crosses lo l. shrugging his shouldcrsi] Yes, a col- 
lectorship of stamps, like Wordswortli, or a gauger's place, like Burns. 
No, I may sink, but I will never stoop I 

Mrs. F. Anything is better than debt, dear. 

Fitz. Pshaw ! you cannot understand the loathing of a poet's na- 
'ure for the sordid trafficking of your men of business. But 'tis the 
fete of genius to be misunderstood, misplaced, misconstrued ! 

Ente}- Mary Bustle, d. r. 3 e. 

Mary. Mr. Hornblower, sir. 

FUz. Very well — show him up. [Exit, Mart, d. r. 2 e 

Mrs. F. Oh, do try if he won't advance you a little more. 

Fitz. Well, well, I'll try. Go into the bedroom— Hornblower only 
knows me as a bachelor. 

Mrs. F. I'll be as quiet as a mouse, love. 

[Kisses him, and exits into bed-romn, d. l. r. 

Fits, (l.) Poor thing ! — can't understand me in the least —but aha 
means well. Now for Rhadamanthus. 



32 VICTIMS. 

Enl'ir HORNBLOWER, D. E. 3 E. 

Ah, Hornblower, Jelighted to see you. 

Horn, (r.) Pens — ink — paper — and your dressing-gown ! That's as 
it should be — nothing like a soldier in his uniform, arms in hand. Well, 
the mnse is propitious, I hope — we are brilliant, ehl "What is it- 
epic or lyric — Pope or Anacreon.1 Are we going to convulse the pub 
lie with our fun, or awe them with our agony, or to mystify them will 
our metaphysics \ " Under which King, Bezonian, speak or die !" 

Filz. [Crossinff to table, r. and producing MS.'] I have here a series 
of sketches from life — ^mixed humor and pathos, which I was working up 

Horn. The very thing, my boy ! A dash of Tennyson in a bumper 
of Hood — green tea laced with cognac — couldn't be better. 

Fitz. Shall I read you a specimen 1 

Horn. No, no ; confound it ! Pm an editor not an auditor. It's the 
public's business to read. 

Fitz. Highly finished — you know. 

Horn. Ah, polish — polish ! That's the thing. Better one pearl 
■will set than a ton of pearl oysters. How much ! 

Fitz. They will make about a sheet. 

Horn. Oh, we'd find room for them if they came to twice as much. 

Fitz. I must have twenty guineas for them- 

Horn. [Taking the MS.^^ Twenty guineas ! my dear boy — the age 
ought to be ashamed of itself that measures the value of such things 
by paltry dross. Oblige me by not mentioning price in connection 
with productions destined to live for ever. 

Fitz. Meantime, the author must live, too. 

Horn. Live ! of course he must. The days of Grub Street and 
Garretteers are aver. Literature is honored and remunerated as it de- 
serves. Here you are, for instance, feted, lionized, and paid — splendidly 
paid ; you can't imagine the pleasure I feel in paying my contributors. 

Fitz. I know you do — so, as here's pen and ink, you may as well 
draw the check at once. 

Horn. The check ! You forget, my dear fellow, we are not square. 

Fitz. Oh ! PU work the old debt off next month ; I want to start fair 
with this article. 

Horn. Suppose we started fair with the next ? This sheet will just 
balance our account. ' \_l'uts MS. in his pocket. 

Fitz. But the fact is, my dear Hornblower, I want the money 
infernally. 

Horn. Of course you do. But my dear boy, I make it a rule, never 
to trust a poet. Their will to work is excellent, but their inspiration is 
so uncertain ; the only thing that always sets it agoing is — " work 
done, money down." Good morning? I've to see Muddlemist for half 
a sheet of Metaphysics, and Curdle for a slashing article on Agricul- 
tural Statistics. [Crosses towards d. r. 

Filz. But you've put my verses in your pocket. 

Horn. As you did my twenty guineas, two months ago. Miserably 
below the value of your immortal work. Pm quite aware ; but remem- 
ber, my boy, " Paradise Lost" was sold for ten pounds. Be that your 
couBolatioii [Exit, r. d. 3 e. 



VICTIMS. 23 

Fitz. Confound the old humbug, he's done me ; I knew he would. 
But how is the poet to struggle with the sordid capitalist 1 No ; I 
must look on, and see that fellow building up a fortune out of my 
brains. It is infamous ! The labor of a month gone, and not a farthing 
for it. "It's downright robbery 1 But something must be done about 
these bills. Failing a loan from my sentimental admirer, Mrs. Merry- 
weather, I must get Butterby to renew. His marriage will set him up. 

£ntei' Butterby, e. d. 3 e., with a parcel in brown paper under his arm 

Talk of the devil ! 

Butler, (r.) Well, he's not a pleasant topic; but if you have any- 
thing to say to him, I'm your man, for I'm going to him rapidly. 

Filz. (l.) What do you mean 1 

Butter. I'm ruined, that's all ; done up, my boy, By Jove ! I've lost 
eight hundred a year. 

Fitz. You : 

Butter. That is, I've lost the prospect of it. It comes to the same 
thing. 

Fitz. What do you mean 1 

Butter. You know I was to marry Miss Crane, a woman with a mas- 
culine understanding, and twenty-seven thousand in the three per cents, 
1 had got the hcense, sir, bought the cake, ordered the breakfast, got 
home my wedding suit — blue and brass, canary waistcoat, and lavender 
kerseymeres ; tried 'em on last night ; a beautiful fit, only the trousers 
wanted taking in. I've got "em in this parcel. 

Fitz. Well ! 

Butler. And now all the fat's in the fire. I suppose I must eat the 
cake. I've countermanded the breakfast, and I'm going to try to per- 
suade the tailor to take back the lavender kerseymeres at a reduction. 
Minerva has thrown me over. 

Fitz. The deuce she has ! Why 1 

Butter. It's all that infernal bouquet of yours. I was fool enouorii to 
offer it to a little milliner, and she must have been told of it by some of 
the servants. 

Filz. [Aside.'] My note ! [^Zom(Z.] But you gave the bouquet to 
Mrs. Merry weather ? 

Butter. I left it for her ; but of course I was not going to compromise 
you, my boy, by saying you sent it. 

Filz. No, no ; did quite right. But this matter must be arranged. 

Butter. How'? If you'd seen the look she gave me, and heard the 
style she pitched into me ; I trembled, by Jove I did, before that mas- 
culine mind of hers. She was awful — a fury ! by Jove, a perfect Lady 
Macbeth ! Ristori's nothing to her. 

Filz. Oh ! all this must be explained. It is absolutely necessary, 
for my sake, as well as yours, that this marriage should take place. 
Those bills I accepted must be renewed. 

Butler. Why, you don't mean to say you've not met them 1 

Fitz. No ; I took care to keep out of their way. 

Butter. Then the iadorsee will be down on the drawer, and, by .Tove I 
the drawer's empty. [Turns out his trouser's pockets. 



24 VICTIMS. 

Fitz. And then they'll enter up judgment, and I shall be arrested. 

Butter. You arrested 1 Pooh ! by Jove, they'll never arrest yoii 
Fitz ; they've too much respect for genius. I'll tell you what — get 
somebody else to draw on you ; I know lots of capitalists — enormous 
capitalists. They'll be delighted to discount your paper — delighted. 

[Puts parcel on table, e. c. 

Fitz. That I may find myself three months' hence more embarrasced 
than I am now. No ; you must renew, and when you've married Miss 
Crane you can pay without difficulty. 

Butler. But how am I to make it up with Minerva 1 

Fitz. Oh, I'll father the bouquet, and you shall make her a handsome 
present — a dress, say, or something of that sort. 

Butter. Soften a superior woman like that with a dress, pooh ! You 
don't know Minerva, my dear Fitz, you don't, by Jove. 

Fitz. If she were the Goddess of Wisdom in propria perxond, she 
couldn't resist the allurements of Swan and Edgar's. I know 'em, 
Butterby. I tell you I'll make up this quarrel — the marriage shall come 
off, and you shall wear your lavendar unmentionables, renew the bills, 
and be happy ever after, like the prince in the fairy tale. 

Butter. 13y Jove, Fitz, you're a wonderful creature. The way you 
get a fellow into a scrape, and the way you get him out of one are 
equally masterly. 

Fitz. Your happiness is at stake, my dear Butterby, and for a 
friend like you 

Butter. My dear Fitz! [Shaking his hands. "] By Jove, you're the 
guardian of my happiness, as I am the champion of your reputation. 
Let any man touch that, and he^vill have to settle with Josh Butterby, 
by Jove he will ! And so you think I may have the lavenders taken in' 

Fitz Certainly; and we'll choose the dress at once. 

Butter. I'll leave the continuations at my tailor's, en pas.iant. 

Fitz. No. no — we should look like a shopman and an erraifd boy. 
We'll send it by the servant. Put a paper in the parcel, describing the 
alterations you want. 

Butter. Exactly! [Crosses to table, r., and writes — reading."] "They 
will fit very well, if taken in half an inch at the waist." [^Opcns parcel 
(nidputs in note.] And that will allow a margin for emotion and the 
wedding breakfast. There ; and now, Fitz, do me one more favor. 

Fitz. What is it 1 

Butter. Just knock us off a sonnet, or an epigram, or an acrostic, or 
anything, in fact, in verse, to send to Minerva with the dress — some- 
thing touching and appropriate — a sort of — ^you know — with allusions 
— you understand — I have exactly the sort of thing in my head, only, 
by Jove, I can't express it. 

Fitz. Oh, yes, we'll talk it over as we go along. [Bdtterwoxth is 
going, e. d , Fitzherbert stopping him.] Not by the front door — 
there's a suspicious customer outside. 

Butter. I see. A Mosaic Arab, hung in chains of his native aaetal. 

Fitz. This way ! [Pointing to door, r. 2 E. 

Butler. Back stairs, eh 1 — kitchen door, into the back Btreet ! I 



VICTIMS. 25 

twig ! By Jove, you're an extraordinary fellow, Fitz — ex-traoid- 
inary. [^Exeunt, L. D. 2 e. 

Mrs. Sharp. [Outside, e. d. 3 e.] First floor landing, sir ; door facing 
you. 

Enter Merryweather, r. d. 3 e. 

Merry. Eh ! Nobody here ? She said I should find Fitzherbert. 
He's in the next room, perhaps ; I'm not sorry to have a moment to 
settle my plan. So — here are his bills, and his verses from that d — d 
bouquet. I wish I could endorse the one with " No effects," as safely 
as I may the other. Here's incendiary stuff to write, to another man's 
wife. [Reads. 

" Dear drooping victim of a joyless fate — " 

That's Emily. 

" The tyrant's chain thy tender neck may bind — " 

That's me I Never used any chain worse than a twenty guines 
necklace. 

" But souls in destiny's despite will mate. 

Mind unenthralled will seek it's kindred mind. 
As captives that in neighboring dungeons pine — " 

The Acacias a dungeon ! 

" With secret tokens cheat their heavy hours. 
So doth my captive spirit leap to thine. 
Breathing its sympathy in these poor flowers." 

Was ever such rodomontade T and yet it's trash like this that has 
persuaded poor Emily she's a victim, and I'm a brute — they all agreed 
I was one, and I thought I must be one for along timex But I'm not— 
Rowley says I'm not ! No, I'm d — d if I am ! And this comes from 
a coxcomb I could clap in the Bench to-morrow — not that I mean to do 
anything of the kind I No — ^I will teach him what " the tyrant " is. 
I'll burn his bills before his own eyes, return him his ridiculous lines, 
and beg him to oblige me by not giving me or my wife any more of his 
company. Luckily Emily has not seen his note — I hope it's the first — 
surely she would never forget herself so far — and yet that rehearsal — 
I don't know what to think. That's the worst of these fine sentiments; 
they're like the mirage eastern travellers write about ; seen through 
their medium, sin looks heroic, and duty despicable. Fitzherbert 
doesn't make his appe irance, though. Egad I I'll inclose him his bills 
and note ; I can wiite what I want to express better than I can 
say it. 

[Crosses to table, e.. sits, and vrrites. with his lack to the door, i. v 

Enter Mrs. Fitzherbert, d. l. f. 
Mrs. F. All gone ! [Runs up to Merryweather, a.] Herbert, 
lear — 
Merry, [r. — turns rounUl Eh ?^-why — 
Mrs, F. [r. c] I beg your pardon, I thought it was— 
■ ' 2 



26 VICTIMS. 

Merry. Lucy Aiken ! 

Mrs. F. Mr. Langford. 

Merry. Good Gracious ! Why, Lucy ! [Takes both her hands and 
shakes them heartily.'\ My dear little friend, Lucy — that is — What on 
earth are you doing here, in Mr. Fitzherbert's lodgings 1 

Mrs, F. He is my husband, Mr. Langford. 

Merry. Your husband, Lucy 1 fitzherbert your husband, anu ' 
never heard of it ! 

Mrs. F. No ; you see, it's a secret. You'll not betray us, I'm sure 
you won't, will you 1 

Merry. Betray you ! — a secret, Lucy 1 Remember, I was your fath- 
er's friend — I knew you a very little girl Lucy — I — You are married, 
Lucyl 

Mrs. F. Mr. Langford ! 

Merry. Forgive me — no, I don't mean that — of course you are. 

Mrs. F. We were married secretly. Herbert's family are proud, and 
— But you'll keep the secret, dear Sir. Langford ; 

Merry. Yes. But to think of my — Good gracious ! Why, do- you 
know, Lucy, I was looking over my old letters to you this very morning, 
the letters you sent back, you know. 

Mrs F. Oh, we must forget all that now, Mr. Langford. But you 
are well — you are happy. 

Merry. Yes, oh, yes — I'm married, too, Lucy. 

Mrs. F. Oh, I'm so glad of that, for then I'm sure you must be 
happy. 

Merry. You think it follows — [ With a half sigh. 

Mrs. F. Oh, jes ; for you would never marry any one you did not 
love, and she must love you, you're so good and kind. 

Merry. But you did n6t love me, Lucy. 

Mrs. F. Oh, yes, I did, very much indeed — like an elder 
brother. 

Merry. Ah — exactly. But this — your husband ! Remember our 
old friendship, and let me question you, Lucy, Are you happy 1 

Mrs. F. Oh, yes, very happy. You would not ask that if you knew 
Herbert 

Merry. I — good gracious ! — eh 1 Oh, I dare say I should'nt. Well, 
you seem very comfortable here — pictures— a piano — 

Mi's. F. Yes, Herbert loves to surround himself with all that is 
beautiful. 

Merry. [aside.'\ Without paying for it. 

Mrs. F. But how did you find out I was living herel 

Merry. Why — eh 1 The fact is, you see — How ! Why don't 
you know? Can't you guess 1 

Mis. F. Oh, to be sure; I forgot I had given my maiden name at 
this address. 

Merry. Of course, [^«iie.] Thank goodness, she's expKined it. 
[^si'rfe] Yes, as you gave your maiden name, how was I to suppose 
you were married 1 

Enter Mrs. Sharp, e. d. 3 e. 

ift$. S. A lady, mem, in her carriage. Here's her card. 



VICTIMS. 27 

Mrs. F. Beg her to walk up stairs. \_Exit Mug. Sharp, b. d. 3 s 

[^Reads-I '• Mrs. Merry weather." [To him.'\ You won't mind. 

Merry. [Aside."] My wife? What should she come here for 1 To 
eee Fil^herbert! [Aloud.'\ Jjucy, put me somewhere. This lady 
musn't see me — I mustn't see her, that is — 

Mrs. F. But— 

Merry. Never mind — I'll explain all after she's gone. Do hide me 
somewhere — anywhere — I insist upon it. 

Mrs. F. In this room, Mr. Langford, but — 

Merry. Not a word, now. [Aside.'] li she has come to see Fitzher- 
fjertl I'll watch. [Exit into bed-room, h.F. 

Mrs. F, What can he mean by this strange confusion \ 

Enter Mus. Mkeeyweather, e. d. 3 e. — Mekeyweathee peeps from 
bedroom, b. d. 

Mrs. M. (r.) Miss Lucy Aiken, I believe. [Mrs. F. hows.'] My 
friend, Miss Crane, recommended you to me as a pianist ; as I wantied 
one for this evening, I have called to ascertain if you are disengaged. 

Mer. I'm relieved ! 

Mrs. F. [Aside.] Herbert will be out. [Aloud.] Yes, ma'am, I 
have no engagement for this evening. 

Mrs. M. Ah ! that is lucky. Miss Crane is eloquent about your 
skill and obligingness. 

Mrs. F. Miss Crane is very kind, ma'am — I am always eager to do 
my best ; I believe that is my chief title to her praise. 

Mrs. M. You are not quite a stranger to me. Mr. Merryweather 
has mentioned your name — I think he is an old acquaintance of yours. 

Mer. [Aside.] How the deuce does she know that 1 

Mrs. F. Mr. Merryweather! I think not, ma'am — I have no 
acquaintance of that name. 

Mrs. M. [Aside.] She is deceiving me. [Aloud^ Ah ! it is singular 
— I am almost sure he spoke of you ; you are certain you do not know 
him ■? 

Mrs. F. Quite, ma'am ; my acquaintances are very few — I am not 
likely to forget any of them. 

Mrs. M. You are very young, Miss Aiken — and excuse me, if I add, 
very handsome — to be compelled to resort to this mode of supporting 
yourself. 

Mrs. F. But I am poor — and the poor must face many things that 
to the rich seem very hard, and very dangerous. 

Mrs. M. But music is not your only resource^-you embroider, I see. 
[Tato MjD <Ae cap Mrs. Fitzherbert has been working at.] Surely I 
know this pattern ! 

Mrs. F. O, yes 1 they are your own caps ; Mrs. Satchell, your maic^ 
has been kind enough to employ me. 

Mrs. M. You called at my house, this morning ? 

Mrs. F. Yea. 

Mrs. M. [Aside.] A rendezvous with my husband ! [Aloud.] Did 
you see Mr. Merryweather ? 

Mrs. F. No, ma'am. 



28 VICTIMS. 

Mrs. M. But music and embroidery are not your only resources. I 
Bee manuscripts here. \Poinling to table, e.] You are literary. 

Mrs F. Oh I no, no, indeed — 1 sometimes copy manuscripts. 

Mrs. M. Ah I I often employ an amanuensis. Let me see your 
handwriting. [Turns to table, a., and. sees note Merryweather had 
begun. Aside.^ My husband's hand. [Aloud.} Bold, but rather commer- 
cial than feminine. May I ask if this is your writing 1 

Mer. My note, by Jove ! 

Mrs. F. That, madam 1 Oh no ! I really do not know whose writing 
that is. 

Mrs. M. It is strange ; the ink is still wet. 

Mrs. F. The ink I [Emharassed. 

Mi$. M. Yes, Miss Aiken, these letters have not been traced two 
minutes ! 

Mrs. F. Indeed, madam, I — 

Mrs. M. And the hand that traced them is my husband's ! 

Mrs. F. Your husband's 1 

Mrs. M. You see before you, a fond — an injured wife 1 

Mer. [Aside'] Huzza 1 she's jealous ! 

Mrs. M. The Mr. Merryweather, whose very name was strange to 
you, is my husband. The Mr. Merryweather, who wrote these letters. 
Miss Aiken — [shows parcel] whom you receive at your lodgings, and 
whom you deny to-his wife ! speak the truth — he has just left you. 

Mer. [e. — Coming forward.] No, my dear ! he is still here, luckily. 

Mrs. M. (c.) My husband ! Oh, this alone was wanting — 

Mer. To save you from cpmrnitting an act of very grievous injustice, 
and to prevent my poor little friend, Lucy, from an unconscious false- 
hood. 

Mrs. F. [l.] Oh, Mr. Langford, do explain — pray — 

Mrs. M. Langford ! a feigned name, too ! Oh, this is too cruel. 

Mer. Ah — I forgot! you did not know that before marrying you, I 
was Mr. Langford — that by that name alone, Lucy knew me ; I changed 
it under my uncle's will on succeeding to his fortune and his business. 

Mrs. M. But this lock of hairl [Holding it up. 

Mer. Was purchased from Lucy's hair-dresser, for one shilling and 
sixpence. 

Mrs. M. But these letters — [Showing a packet. 

Mer. Were written four years ago — when I still had a right to cor- 
respond with an unmarried lady, and no wife to look into-my writing- 
desk. 

Mrs. M. But your presence here — explain that, sir, if you can ! 

Mer. I came to see this young lady's husband. 

Mrs. M. Her husband ! Then she is married ? 

Mrs. F. Yes, madam I forgive this, the only deception I have prac- 
ticed — I used my maiden name to obtain work and lessons, that I 
might spare my husband's pride, while I did what I could to help him 
— we are very poor. 

Mer. There, Emily — ^you see what the girl is whom you have ven- 
tured *o suspect. But I will tell you more on our way home, for it 



VICTIMS. 29 

must not be in Lucy's hearing. Lucy, you will come ti us to-night ; 
there's a dear girl 1 

Mrs. F. Oh, Mr. Langford — 

Mer. ^erry weather ! 

Mrs. F. I beg your pardon ! the old name will come to my tongue, 
for it is written deep in my heart. Oh, madam — if yea knew how kmd 
he was to me ever so long ago, and so refined in his kindness, too 1 

Mrs. M. Refined 1 My husband 1 

Mrs. F. Yes, no woman could have been more confriderate. Oh, how 
happy you must be with such a husband 1 

Mrs. M. [Aside.'\ Kind! considerate I my husbanJ refined 1 Can I 
have been mistaken in him ! 

Mcr. Never mind that, Lucy — you must come to us to-night. Mrs. 
Merrywcather, you will receive her as one who is my friend — who is 
well worthy to be yours. 

Mrs. M. I ask your pardon for the suspicion that circumstances but 
too naturally excited; here is my hand. 

Mer. Give her your hand, Lucy. [Mrs. Mrbrywkather and Mas 
FiTZHERBERT shake hands^ And take mine. \^He shakes her hand.] 
Au revoir, Lucy 1 Come, Emily 1 [^Gives his arm to his wife. 

Mrs. M. [2b Meeryweather.] Poor thing ! To think of her slaving 
in this way. What a selfish wretch the husband must be to suflTer it. 
I hate him I 

Mer. You can't think how entirely I agree with you, my dear. 

Mrs. M. What's his name 1 

Mer. Pardon me — that is Lucy's secret. But you cannot have an 
idea how utterly contemptible the man is, till you have heard my story. 
I'll tell it you on our way home. And so you really were jealous 1 

Mrs. M. No ! 

Mer. Yes, you were ! 

[Exe^^nt Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather, arm in arm, n. d. 3 e. 

Mrs. F. But my secret! they will betray my secret — and then dear 
Herbert will be angry. My head is all in a whirl — I can't think. 
{Pressing her hand to her brow.] Mr. Langford — no, Merryweather — 
still the same kind heart as ever — now I am going to cry, like a fool — 
I won't cry — yes I will — it will do me good — I will go in and have a 
good cry, beside dear baby. [Exit to bedroom. 

Enter Mrs. Sharp, r. d. 3 e., with a "parcel i7i whity-brown paper, of 
the same size as the one containing the trowsers, which is in brown 
paper. 

Mrs. S. A parcell the young man said that there was nothing to 
pay, or I'd not have took it in — and here's another, [Takes up parcel 
with trousers.'] I wonder what's in 'em — I declare I could almost suspect 
they're a makin' ray apartment a receiving house for goods on false 
pretence — there's such a many swindlers about. [Feels parcels.'] Drapery 
goods, both on'em. Suppose they is false pretences. And suppose ] 
was wanted to give evidence, and me knowing nothing about 'em. It's 
my dooty to examine the contents — they're only pinned. [Opens parcel 
No. 2, whity-brown, and takes out satin dress.] Ah ! what a lovely satit 



30 VICTIMS. 

—ten shillin' a yard, at least. Oh ! it can't be honestly come by — and 
the other — [Opens the other packet — a rap is heard, h. v.'i Oh, it's Mr. 
Fitzherbert. Oh, Lord a' mercy — if he catches me. [She hastily puts 
up parcels, changing the covers.} I declare my heart was in my mouth. 
£Jnter Butteeby and Fitzheebert, l. d. 

Fitz. Boy left a parcel, Mrs. Sharp 1 

JUis. 8. Yes, sir — I was just bringing it up. [Aside."] It are false 
pretences. [Exit, e. d. 3 e. 

Butter. There it is, by Jove — a stupendous success, my boy — I feel it 
is stu-pendous — Minerva's done — clear as a whistle — knocked over, by 
Jove. 

Mtz. Yes — she's more than woman if she can resist satin. 

Butter. And my verses — that is — ray idea, and your words. Come, 
let's finish 'em, at once, while we're in the vein. 

Fitz, And dispatch parcel and verses together, to the house — I've 
only the last couplet to finish. [Sils at a fable, e. 

Butter. Ehl I've an idea — by Jove, I've such an idea! We're all 
to be at Mrs. Merryweather's this evening — the whole set ; we'll send 
it there, that Minerva may receive it, bang — before everybody. It will 
be a hit — a tremendous hit — a blaze of triumph, by Jove. 

Mtz. Especially when accompanied by your verses — here they are. 

[Gives them. 

Butter. [Reading to himself] Brilliant, by Jove — capital, by Heav- 
ens — Lempriere couldn't beat 'em — only — I say, my boy, you've called 
me Joshua. 

Mtz. Well ; it's your namfi, isn't it 1 and a highly respectable one — 
it exhales an odbr of Quaker sobriety, perfectly refreshing. 

Butter. Yes — it's respectable as you say — but drab — decidedly drab-— 
in fact infernally Ebenezerish. Suppose you called me — Chloe — no, 
that's a woman's name. 

Mtz. Damon — ah — eh 1 

Butter. Yes — Damon — and you'll be Pythias. By Jove, that's the 
very name I had on the tip of my tongue. 

Mtz. And now to dispatch our Mercury with Damon's peace-ofTering. 

[Jiings bell on table. 

Butter. [Reads last line.] Delicious, by Jove — delicious. 
Enter Mary, k. d. 3 e. 

Mitz. Oh, Mary, carry these parcels directly — 

Butter. The brown paper one to Mr. Lamkins, II Conduit Street, 
and the whity-brown to Mrs. Merryweather's, The Acacias, Regent's 
Park — you understand — stop, I'll put on the addresses, or she may 
make a mistake. [ Writes addresses. 

[Exit Mary, with parcels, e. d. 3 a 

Butter. There, my boy, I think I've done the trick now. Egad, a fel- 
low doesn't know how much poetry there's in him till he tries. 

FUz. Nor how little. [Exit l. d 

Butter. [Repeating-.] " And when you wear it, think of me." By 
Jove ! It's stunning. [Exit l. d. 

END OF ACT 11. 



VICTIMS. SI 

ACT in. 

SCENE I. — Entrance Hall to the Acacias. {1st Grooves.) 

Skimmer discovered, h. 1 e., book in hand, receiving and announcing 
Guests as they enter, h. 1 e.. Female Servant a< d. in l. f., taking 
hats, cloaks, cj-c. Carfuffle at k. 1 e., announcing Guests as they 
exit, R, 1 E. 

Enter elderly Lady and her Daughter, l. 1 e. 

Shim. [Looking at book."] Missis and Miss Rigaud. [They cross a. 

Car. [In a sonorous tone.] Mrs. and Miss Wriggle ! 

Elderly Lady. [ With, dignity ] Kigaud, sir 1 

Car Mrs. and Mrs. Wriggle! oh! [They pass in, r. 1 e. 

Enter Hornblower, l. 1 e., crosses to c. 

Skim. Mr. Hornblower! eh! [Looking off.^ I beg your pardon, the 
cabman is waiting, sir! 

Horn. Confound the fellow ! his fare is one and six, and I shall give 
no more. [Exit Skimmer, l. 1 k 

Car. Mr. 'Orn — now, James ! 

Re-enter Skimmer, l. 1 e. 
Skim. Sir! 

Horn. [ Who has just flung open his coat.^ Well ! 
Skim. He won't take it, sir — he says, with his compliments, you 
ought to be a threepenny buster, 'cos you can't afford cabs, Mr. Horn- 
blower ! 

Horn. Confound his impudence! Here's yixpencc [Gives it], and 
takes his number. [Exit Skimmer l. 1 e.] I'll have an article on the 
extortion of these infernal villains in next week's number. 

[Ci'osses to R. 
Car^; Mr. 'Ornblower I [He passes in e. 1 b 

Re-enter Skimmer, i.. I e. 
Enter a Foreigner, l. 1 e. 
Skim Name, sir, please 1 

Foreigner. Der Kaiserlicher Koniglicher ober Kapell meister — und 
Kammerath — Diidelsackshonhausen ! 

Skim. Goodness gracious ! I beg pardon, sir, I didn't quite catch it. 
Foreigner. [Repeats name. 

Skim. No, I never can ! Mosoo Diddle sacks and Shoosen. 

[Foreigner crosses to c. 
Car. Mosoo liltle socks and shoes on ! 

Foreigner. Ach Gott6 ! nein — nein — "Der Kaiserlicher — Konig 
Ucher — " 

Car. [Majestically.'] Pass on, sir, you are announced! 

[Foreigner passes in s. 1 a< 
Enter another Foreigner, l. 1 e. 
Foreigner. Signer Scappavia di Mongibelli. 



33 VICTIMS. 

Ski7n. Signor Skipper via de mangy belly. [Foeeignee crossea >o o. 

Car. Bother these foreigners ! Signor Chippaway de Stranger Bel 
lows. [Foreigner passes inn. I it. 

Enter Rowley, l. 1 e., he is going in uithout being announced. 

Skim. Beg pardon, what name, sir ? 

Rowley. Rowley — John Rowley — 

Skim. [^Looking at book.'] Beg pardon, sir — but you are not on mis- 
sus's list. 

Rowley. No, but I'm on master's. 

Skim. We're to go by missus's orders. 

Rowley. You shall go by master's orders, if you attempt to stop me. 

Car. Now, James, what is it 1 

Skim. A gent as arn't on my list, Mr. Carfuffle. 

Rowley. Gome, let me pass, will you — you flunkies ? 

Car. Flunkies 1 

Enter Merryweather, e. 1 e. 

Merry. "What's the matter 1 Ah, Rowley my boy ! [Rowley crosses 
to him^ Delighted you're arrived at last — come in ! 

Skim. Beg pardon, sir — the gentleman's name arn't down in my 
book. 

Merry. Confound your book, sir I I'm master here ! c«me along old 
fellow ! 

Car. [ With dignity.'] I beg your parding, sir — I beg your parding — 
but this gent have called me a flunkey ! 

Merry. And what the devil are you but a flunkey \ 

Car. [^Recoiling paralyzed.] Well 1 

Rowley. Ha, ha, ha ! a good beginning, my boy ! Keep it up, and 
you'll be a man again, and not a woman's plaything. 

[ They pass in u. 1 e. 

Skim. (l. c.) Mr. Carfuffle, did you hear that 1 

Car. (r. c.) Yes, James, with amazement; master's a getting his 
head out of the collar — 

Skim. " I'm master here !" Well, if ever I thought to hear master 
use language like that. 

Oar. Mark my words, James — there's a conwulsion a-hatching in 
this family. 

Skim. Well, I did think master held his head up uncommon, as ho 
came in with missus this afternoon. Mr. Carfuffle, p'raps we 'ad 
better be a little more respectful to master. 

Car. P'raps — DoOr, James 1 [They each retire to their places. 

Enter Butterby and Fitzherbert, l. 1 e., and cross to c. 
Butler. By Jove, Fitz, I'm quite agitated — Miss Crane come, JamcB 1 
Skim. No, sir, not yet. 

Butter. Don't leave me, Fitz, till I get off" my goloshes. 
Fitz. Hang your goloshes ! [Going R 

Skim. [Announcing.] Mr. Fitzherbert ! 

Car. Mr. Fitzherbert 1 [He passes in e. 1 K. 

Butter. [Struggling wi/h his golosh on one foot.] Confound the 
things 1 



VICTIMS. 33 

Enter Mes. FiTZHsaBEUT in lonnet and shawl, i.. 1 s. 

Skim. Now, young woman, what do yoM want? 

Mrs. F. Take my card in, please, to Mrs. Merryweather. 

Exit Skimmeb, R. 1 E, 

Butter. \_Al the voice, looks up, aside."] The undulating little milliner, 
by Jove. Ah, my dear — delighted to see you ! X>e-lighted. 

Mrs. F. Sir 1 [Aside.] It's that silly man ! 

Butler. You gave me the slip this morning — but now you must tell 
■13 your romantic name, and your mysterious address — you must, by 
Jove 1 

Mrs. F. Sir, if you say another word to me, I'll complain to Mrs. 
Merryweather; [Crosses k.] as you are coward enough to insult me, I 
am sure you will fear to offend her ! 

Enter SKiMMEE/roni k. 1 e. 

Skitru That way, miss, please, [Points^, and crosses toL. I. e. 

[Mks. Fitzherbiet passes in &. 1 e. 

Butter, (l. c.) James, do you know that young person 1 

Skim. No, sir — but here's the card she giv' me. * 

Butler. And which you'll instantly give me. [Skimmer does so.] 
That's it — here's a shilling. [Gives him one. 

Skim. Thank you, sir. [Retires to his situation, l. 1 e. 

Butler. [Reads.] " Mrs. Lucy Aiken, 3 Harriet Street, Belgrave 
Square." Fitz's street, by Jove I Fitz's number, too ! What a re- 
markable coincidence — re-markable ! I must follow this up in the 
" veni-vidi-vici" style — by Jove ! 

Enter Cprdle with umbrella, l. 1 e. 

Skim. Mr. Curdle ! 

Butter. [Aside.] The old Multiplication table. [Aloud.] Ah, Curdle, 
come to enliven us with a few figures, eh 1 

Curdle. [ With a Scotch accent] Yes — I'm gay gleg at a quadrille, 
Mr. Butterby. Here, Jems, ye'll gie yon cabman saxpence. [Givea 
Skimmer money, he exits l. 1 e.] It's a comfort to hae got rid of the 
awfu' imposition o' yon twopence, Mr. Butterby. 

Butter. Hideous, by Jove — hideous ! T always gave them a shilling. 

Re-enter Skimmer, l. 1 e. 

Skim. Cabman looked very hard at it sir, but he says he don't know 
what it is. 

Curdle. The ignorance o' the lower orders in this country is crass — 
perfectly crass. Ye'll tell him it's twa coins of the realm called three- 
pennies — first minted under Edward the Second, and revived under a 
late enlightened admeenestration. 

Skim. He says it's over a mile, sir. 

Curdle. Na, na ; it's a mile and twenty-sax feet to the " Acacias," 
from the third hoose in Langham Place — I've measured it wi' my pedo- 
meter — ye ken, Mr. Butterby. No — I took him up at the fifth hoose, 
and the hooses havin' a frontage of thretty feet — twice thretty's saxty, 
and twenty-sax from saxty leaves just thretty- four feet less than the 
legal distance o' ane mile, and so ye'll tell him, Jems 

[Exit Skimmer, l. 1 & 



34 VICTIMS. 

Numerical exactitude's everything in this commercial country, Mr. 
Butterby. 

Butter. My motto is. d n the coppers. 

Curdle. Oh, yon's misplaced profanity, mon — if ye begin wi' damn- 
ing the coppers, ye'll never ha' a proper respec' for coin o' a higher 
metallic denomination. But wha's this I [Looking of z^, \ is..'\ Eh^ 
it's Miss Crane, and yon puir creature, Muddlemist. 
Re-enter Skimmee, l, 1 e. 

Butter. Minerva, by Jove 1 Butterby, my boy — be firm. 
Enter Miss Ckank and Muddlemist, l. 1 e. 

Skim. Miss Crane — Mr. Muddlemist I 

[Butterby meets Miss Crane's eye — s?ie draws up with a repellent 
dignity. 

Miss 0. Good evening, Mr. Curdle — I am glad we are to have the 
advantage of your society this evening. 

Butter. The advantage is on our — 

Miss C. [In an icy tone.'] Sir ! Your arm, Mr. Muddlemist, to enter 
tKe reception room. [Muddlemist gives his arm, and they cross to r 

Car. Miss Crane — Mr. Muddlemist ! 
[Miss Crane turns and gives Butterby a severe look, and passes 
in, K. 1 E. with Muddlemist. 

Butter. Cut, by Jove — as clean as a turnip. 

Curdle. Odd, mon, yon was an awfu' look Miss Crane gave ye — I 
thocht ye were an accepted suitor. 

Batter, I was this morning. 

Curdle. And jie've quarrelled ! I'm glad to hear that, for ye're no' 
in a position to add an increment to the population without contraven- 
ing a' the doctrines o' the great Malthus. 

Butter. What the deuce has the great Malthus to do with my in- 
creasing the population, or you either I 

Curdle. You see, ye're just an unproductive laborer, Mr. Butterby, 
and you've no' that capital — either fixed or floatin' — that justifies you 
in takin' a wife, accordin' to the doctrines o' James M'Culloch, 

Butler. Hang James M'Culloch! I shall take as many wives as 1 
please, sir, without asking your leave, sir, or that of any other infernal, 
calculating, figure-grinding, blue-book-cramming political economist. 

Curdle. Weel, weel, Mr. Butterby, ye see demand produce?" 
supply — 

Butter. Then just wait till I demand advice before you supply it, Mr. 
Curdle. [-4sWe.] There, I think I've sold him in the cheapest market 

[Going, a. 1 e. 

Car. [Announcing.'] Mr Butterby 1 [I ctterby joasses iw, r. 1 e 

Curdle. So, he's afF wi' Miss Crane — 1 see na' reason why I should 
na' be on wi' her mysel' : she's fond o' feegures, and mine's no' that 
bad. And I'm fond o' feegures, too, and she's got a pretty ane in the 
three-per-cents I Sae, puttin' our twa feegures thegether, it may come 
to something. [Ooing, e. 1 K 

Car. [Announcing.] Mr. Curdle ! [Curdle passes in s. 1 n. 

Mean party that, James ! 



VICTIMS. 35 

Skim. Scaly ! 

Car. Very ! [Exeunt Carfcffle, e. 1 k., Skimmer, t. 1 k. 

Scene II. — Drawing Room at the Acacias, brilliantly lighted and ele- 
gaitl^y furnished — Conservatory beyond, with fountain playing in c, 
arched entrances e. and l. 

Company promenading in the background — others grouped about tht 

stage. 
Rowley and Meerywkather come down c. 

Jiow. (e.) And these are all remarkable people, ehl 

Mer. (r. c.) Yes, more or less I the rooms are a perfect ency«lo- 
psedia — a British Museum of celebrities. 

Row. A good deal like the one in Great Russell street, with abund- 
ance of idols, rich stores of learning that nobody wants, a good many 
lions stuffed at your expense, and venerable remains of antiquity that 
once were goddesses. 

Mer. You see that pale man with the bumpy forehead, and strawy 
hairl \^Pointing off, l.'] That's Muddlemist, the great metaphysician. 
Hornblower declares he's demolished Kant. 

Row. What the newspapers would call a most determined act of 
self-destruction. 

Mer. You know Hornblower, of course — the great Hornblowrr they 
call him here — I suppose from the wonderful way he blows his own 
trumpet, and the trumpets of all his clique, in the " Weekly Torch," to 
which he supplies the light, and does his best to snufF out every other 
luminary. [They appear, i,.] He's coming this way, talking to 
Muddlemist. [Gets r 

Enter Hornblower down l , talking to Muddlemist. 

Horn. Don't tell me, sir ; it's a settled question. The Hegelian 
School has smashed the positive philosophy. 

Row. [To Merevweaher.] I should think Hornblower had picked 
up the pieces, and put them together for his own use. 

Mud. That is, taking as our stand-point the subjective " me," and 
confining our survey to the notionol cycle, the field of gnosis as op 
posed to the objective and phenomenal universe — it may be so ; but 
you will pardon my remarking this is not a clear view of the subject, 

[Exeunt, l, v. k. 
Curdle and Miss Crane enter conservatory frmn l. 

Row. Well, I think it is not, exactly. But who are that couple 
talking so earnestly ! [Pointing c. 

Mer. That's the great political economist, Curdle, with the strong- 
minded Miss Crane, whose mission it is to emancipate women at ones 
from their prejudices and their petticoats. 

Row. And invest them, I suppose, with our intellect and inexpres- 
sibles. And that young fellow wrapped in solitude and self-import- 
ance on the sofa ? [Pointing i.. 

Mer. Confound him — that's Fitzherbeit. To think he should have 
had the coolness to accept my wife's invitation. 



36 VICTIMS. 

Row. Pooh ! he'll accept anything — ^bills especially. 
Mer, When he must have known he would have to meet me. 
Row. He knew he'd have to meet his bills, too. 
Mer. However, I've prepared a lesson for him. 

Row. I never saw a young gentleman who seemed to want on« 
more. 

Sinter Butterby, l. 3 jt. 

Butter, (r-.) How do, Merry weather 1 [Gives him two fingeis svfer* 
ciliously.'] Brilliant soiree — shows Mrs. Merryweather's usual taste. 
[Aside to him.'] I say, you must explain that bouquet business to Miss 
Crane — my future happiness is at stake. Look at that prig of a Scotch 
economist whispering to her, clenching what he would call the intimate 
relation of interest and capital. You really must explain 

Mer. (o ) I will if I can ; but she's awfully irritated with you. 

Butter. I give you my honor she has no cause. I may be volage, 
gallant — I may have had my successes with the sex — but on this 
occasion I am immaculate. 

Mer. But why not make your own peace with her 1 

Butter. By Jove ! there's a dignity about that woman, sir, that quells 
my natural audacity. Jos. Butterby feels like a cypher in her presence, 
he does, by Jove I You've not heard of a parcel being left here for 
her, have you 1 

Mer. No. 

Butter. Well, if one should come, don't let 'em give it to her till I'm 
there — promise me ; and, I say, get Mrs. Merryweather to make my 
peace, will you 1 

Mer. I get my»wife to do anything I Hadn't you better apply to 
your friend, Fitzherbertl 

Butler. A good idea ! of course I had, Fitz will manage it at once. 
Confound that arithmetical Scotchnjan ! he's dividing us by two. 

[Exit, I,. 3 K. 

Rowley. A vivacious style of man, that ; is he b. remarkable person, 
taol 

Merry. Only the appendage of one ; he's a barnacle that attaches 
himself to the keel of a reputation, and flatters himself he's part of the 
ship. He's Fitzherbert's toady-royal. [Looking off, r.] But here comes 
ity wife. [Gets to a. corner with Rowley. 

Enter Mrs. Merryweather, v.., followed by the Two Foreigners and 
Two Ladies ; Miss Crane and Cdrdle come from conservatory, But- 
terby, FiTZHERBERT, HoRNBLOwER, and MuDDLEMisT, /ro»i L., Other 
GvESTS follow, and all surround Mrs. Merryweather. 

Rowley. How they all flock about her! And here are you, the mas- 
ter of the house, pushed into a corner with no more ceremony than an 
old piece of furniture. 

Merry. But like other old pieces of furniture, there may be more in 
me than anybody imagines. I shall have my revenge j-et. 

[Mrs. Merryweather comes forward with Fitzherbert, and tht 
other Characters, Butterby keevs rather back. 



TICTIMS. 87 

Jfrs. M. Nay, nay, you really are too flattering ; it is my duty, as it 
is my pleasure, to do the honors of my house to my friends, bo far as 
my poor strength and spirits will allow me. 

^ [Gentlemen 7)Zace chairs and they all sit. 

Muddle. What I especially admire in your soirees is the aesthetic 
element. 

Rowley. \Going to him.'] May I ask what that is, sir 1 

[_All look surprised 

Mrs. M. I beg your pardon — Mr. — 1 

Merry. Rowley — a friend of mine, my dear. 

Omnes. Oh ! \They turn away. 

Muddle. You asked for a definition of the term aesthetic, sir ■! 

Butter. Confound him ! now we're in for a screed of transcendental- 
ism, as long and as slow as an excursion train. 

Muddle. The word takes its rise in Germany, and has its roots in 
the Platonic nomenclature — in the objective hypothesis of the subjective 
"me." 

Horn. [Interrupting. 1 Now, there you come upon that fatal dualism 
of Fichte's, Muddlemist ; why can't you keep on the plain ground of 
common sense 1 

Rowley. Just what I was asking myself. 

Horn. [With self-importance.] The thing lies in a nut-shell. jEsthe- 
tic is that field of the intellectual in which the mind laboring to express 
the inward by the outward, symbolizes its spiritual conceptions in 
plastic form. I comprehend much in the term. 

Rowley. Hang me if I comprehend anything. 

Horn. Sir ! 

Miss G. Oh — it's a friend of Mr. Merry weather's. 

Filz. Nay, Hornblower— [Rising. 

Butter. Hush! now Fitz — [To the Company.] Pray hush. You were 
remarking, Fitz — 

Filz. Why vail the glowing glory of the real in the floating, cloud 
drapery of the metaphysicall 

Rowley. I'm sure I don't know any reason. 

Filz. Why dim the divine eye of the painter as he fixes the rainbow 
on his canvas — why cramp the creative hand of the sculptor as it puts 
breath into the marble, by the fetters of a definition 1 The soul of the 
sesthetic is the beautiful — the soul of the beautiful is the true — the soul 
of the true is the ideal. 

Rowley. Egad ! they fit into one another like a nest of Chinese 
boxes. 

Omnes. Beautiful ! 
) Butter. Hush — pray — hush — he's not done yet. 
' Fitz. I have done. [Sits ogauu 

Miss C. How imaginatively — how poetically — how lucidly ex 
plained ! 

Butter. Lucid ! Yes, by Heavens, that's the precise word. 

Miss Q. Sir 1 

[She gives him a look — he draws back his chair affrighted. 

Curdle. Mr. Filzherbert, ye've a great power o' exposition, sir ; ye 



JJ8 VICTIMS. 

only need training in the exacter sciences to be ane o' the lights o' the 
age. 

Butter. Pooh ! Sir, he is one of the lights of the age. It's electric 
light, by Jove. 

Horn. Yes — our friend Fitzherbert has won an immortality at a time 
of life when most men have barely achieved a competence. 

Merry. Which is not a bad foundation to stand upon, Mr. Horn* 
bbwer. 

Horn. I was prepared for the remark from ymi, sir. 

Muddle. We are aware Mr. Merryweather dwells entirely in the re- 
gion of the phenomenal — 

Rowley. I beg your pardon, sir, he dwells in the Regent's Park, and 
this is his house, though the fact seems very generally over- 
looked. 

Horn. Sir — 

Mrs. M. Pray, Mr. Hornblower — Mr. Rowley is a friend of Mr. Mer- 
ryweather's — as such, he is privileged to ridicule my tastes and my 
friends. 

Merry. [Aside."] Hang it ! Rowley's going too fast. 

Miss G. It is the fate of our sex. 

Mrs. M. Yes ; men assume airs of superiority to ms, and yet what is 
the courage and power of man to the heroism, the patient endurance, 
the active, self-denying, unselfish devotion of women 1 

Miss C. What indeed 1 [Fitzherbeet rises. 

Butter. Hush I Fitz is going to say something, {All look at Fitz- 
herbert — a pause — he sits down again.] Oh, I beg your pardon — I 
thought he was. 

Curdle. It's a' fac' that comparing the relative number of the 
sexes — 

Fitz. For mercy's sake, Curdle, spare us those dreadful figures. — 
Pray continue, Mrs. Merryweather ; you were praising the devotedness 
of woman. 

Mrs. M. Oh ! had you but seen the example of it which I have seen 
to-day — 

Miss C. Pray tell us. 

Mrs. M. Imagine, then, a woman, young, beautiful, accomplished, 
married to a man too idle to turn his powers to account — too haughty 
to allow his wife to put her accomplishments to profit — but not too 
proud to incur debts which he cannot pay. 

Mtz. Oh, mean and ignoble 1 

Mrs. M. Conceive this young wife toiling in secret to procure for 
this husband means to indulge his costly tastes, and luxurious appetites 
— employing her lonely nights — for he is absent at his pleasures — to 
Jirn that paltry pittance with which the selfish rich reward the vigils 
of the poor — 

Fitz. Oh, humanity — humanity 1 

Rowley. I should say — oh, zw-humanity. 

Curdle. But ye see, the cost «' labor is no' that arbitary. 

Butter. Silence, Mr. Curdle ! I insist upon it ! 

Mrs. M. For such a husband, this angel wife sits at her needle 'till 



TICTIMS. 39 

early moming — ^braves the inclemency of the weather in carrying home 
her work — the impertinence of her employer's menials — the insults of 
profligate men — men, gentlemen — 

Fitz. Oh, there is no man so brutual. 

Buffer. Impossible ! — such ruffians are fabulous 1 

Mrs. M. And through all this, not one murmur, not one regret ; but 
the tenderness of an angel, the heroism of a martyr, the self-denial of a 
saint. 

Fitz. Oh! that such a being had fallen to my lot ; but this paragon 
is a creature of your imagination, so fertile in images of purity and self- 
devotion. 

Mrs. M. No, I have described — a real woman. 

Miss C. "We are all such women — that is — we should be, under 
similar circumstances. 

Rowley. [Aside.'] I shouldn't like to give you the chance. 

Mrs. M. Nay, nay, you shall all see this sweet creature, you shall all 
know her, in this house, this very night. [Rises. 

All. [Rising^ To-night. 

FUz. We will bow the knee to her — we will place around her brow, 
pale with watching, the aureole of martrydom. 

[All but FlTZHERBERT and BOTTERBY gO up C. 

Mrs. M. I will prepare her for the ovation. [Exit k. u. e. 

Enter Skimmee, l. e., approaches Butteebv and whispers in his ear — 
ihe7i exits l. v. e. 

Butter. I say, Fitz, the parcel's come — now for it. And I say, my 
boy, only think, I've seen the little milliner — I've got her card. 

Fitz. What the devil's that to me ! 

Butter. Why there's a coincidence — she lives in your street — the 
same number — here's her card. Oh, we're hand and glove together — 
I've done the business, my boy ! — by Jove ! I have — floored her like 
a nine-pin. But here's the parcel — now for it I 

[Fitzhebbeet takes the card carelessly. 

GTTESTS. GTTESTS. OITESTS. 

Rowley. Meery. Mddd. Curd Miss C. Horn. Fitz. Butter. 

E. c. L. 

Skimmee c<ymes from l. u. e., with parcel — crosses and gives it to Miss 
Crane. 
Skim. A parcel, ma'am, for Miss Crane, to be delivered immedictely. 

[Exit, L 
Miss C. For me — what can it be 1 

Butter. [_Aside to Fitzherbekt.] Back me up. my boy ! I feel like a 
stoker going to sit down on a safety valve. Don't loose the card though. 

[Goes vp towards Miss Crank. 
Fitz. Confound the card — [Looks at it.] What's this 1 " Lucy Aiken !" 
— my wife's maiden name ! Has he dared — [Stands perplexed. 

Butter. [To Miss Crane, who is coming dmvn. and trying to unfasten 
the parcel.] One moment — hear me — before you open that parcel ; Mr. 
Merryweather has explained to you the error of this morning — can you 
•»ill bear malice 1 



40' VICTIMSi 

Miss O. Suspicion once aroused, sir, is not easy to appease. It is 
true Mr. Merryweather has convinced me there was a mistake. 

Butler. Oh I blessed words ! Then the work that his explanatiou 
has begun, let this, my peace-offering, finish — 

Miss C. Your peace-offering 1 

Butter. Yes ; a humble tribute which devoted affection lays at the 
shrine of loveliness. Listen to my votive song — . 

[All gather and listen, and Butterby reads 

oitbsts. gttests. two ladies. guests. guicsts. 

Meery. Rowley. Curdle. Miss C. Butter. Horn. Muddle. 

R. c. L 

"To Minerva — with a dress. 
" In sudden wrath Minerva frowned — " 
Need I say who is Minerva 1 

"And Damon sank as 'neath a spell ! — " 
Who Damon is, is obvious. 

"That frown divine on all around 
Sank, blighting, whereso'er it fell. 

" His angry goddess to appease. 

Sad Damon sought with hope and fear ; 

Some charms e'en godde.sses can please — 

May Damon hope he's found one here ?" 

That is in this parcel. 

" Then take, great goddess, where you sit, — " 
In point of fact, you ain't sitting, but the posture is figurative — 

" The gift he proflers on his knee — [^Kneelt, 

To female empire tribute fit. 

And when you wear it, think of me." 

\_He opens the parcel, and takes out pair of trousers, then starts 
astounded and lets them fall at his feet. 
Miss 0. Oh I this is too much ! 

\_Screams and faints in ladies' arms — agitation — Rowley and 
Merryweather burst into laughter. 
Butter. Those d — d lavender kerseymeres, by Jingo! 
Curdle. She's off', she's fainted ! she's a murdered woman ! 
Horn. Carry her into the air ! This a manly revenge, Mr. Butterby I 
[They all but Fitzherbert and Butterby, retire with Mass Crane, 
through conservatory, c, atid off r. 
Butler. But, Minerva ! Hornblower 1 Mr. Merryweather ! Oh ! by 
Jove ! here's a victim to appearances 1 Fitz, you'll stand by me at this 
fearful crisis 1 

Fitz. I have an account of my own to settle with you, sir. 
Butter. You, Fitz ? By Jove 1 here's another crisis. 
Fitz. From whom did you get that card 1 



VICTIMS. 41 

Butter, From the little milliner, I tell you, who must henccfoUh be 
my only consolation. 

Mtz. No fooling, sir ! Do you mean to tell me you obtained this 
card from the lady whose name it bears ] 

Butter. Certainly. 

Fitz. By force, then 1 

Butter. Force ! pooh I nothing of the kind. [^5i(ie.] It was by a 
snilling. [Aloud!\ But I must explain to Minerva. 

Filz. Stay, sir ! By Heaven ! you shall stay. [Seizes him. 

Butler. Fitz, Fitz ! {^Struggling with him.'] My future happiness is 

at stake. That d d long-headed Scotchman's having it all his own 

way with Minerva. I must explain, or perish in the attempt ! 

[^Breaks from him, and rushes off, r. c. 

Fnler Mes. Meueyweathee, r. u. e. 

Mrs. M. What ! all gone but you 1 What has happened 1 You 
seem agitated. 

Fitz. Nothing. Another mistake of that ass, Butterby's — a sudden 
illness of Miss Crane — I don't know. [4sic?e.] Oh ! he shall answei 
for this ! 

Mrs. M. And no one here to welcome my paragon of wives. 

HoRNBLOWEK, MuDDLEMisT, Mereyweathee, and Rowley come down. 

Mrs. M. (c.) Will nobody tell me what is the matter] 

Mer. (e. c.) Nothing, my dear — a slight mistake, that's all. Ha, ha, 
ha ! [Rowley laughs. 

Mrs. M. And what on earth is that ! l^Poi7iti7ig to Irouaers. 

Row. (e.) a present of Mr. Butterby's to Miss Crane. 

[Picks up trousers, and puts them on sofa, k. 

Mer. For use after marriage, 

Mrs. M. I will not have my protege's triumphal entry ruined in this 
way. 

Fitz. (l.) How I long to see her! What is her name 1 

Mrs. M. I only know her by her maiden name — her married one is 
a secret. 

Fitz. A secret 1 I love mystery. 

Mrs. M. The husband, it seems, is ashamed of this charminor crea- 
ture, because her family is inferior to his own. 

Fitz. [Winccs-I Indeed! 

Mrs. M. How you, the poet, who feel that true nobility is of the 
soul, must scorn such weakness. 

Fttz. And yet the world — 

Mrs. M. Has a sad power over natures like this selfish man's. 
Luckily, we are above such folly. 

Ftiz. [Aside.] Much you know about it ! 

Mrs. M. But my paragon is waiting. Come, all of you, and above 
all Mr. Fitzherbert, who so well appreciates the excellences of woman, 
let me present to you one who concentrates all these excellences in hei 
own sweet person. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




42 VICTIMS. 



014 549 138 1 



Goes to B. u E., and brings on Mrs. Fitzhkebert, wlio enters timidl^f 
vrith downcast eyes. 

Mer. Now for my revenge, Rowley I 

[FiTZHEEBEfiT has tumcd up, and got over io b. c 

FiTZ. HOEN. 

RowLKi Meeev. Mes. F. Mes. M. Muddle. 

K. c. u 

Mrs. M. Let me introduce to my most valued friends one I am proud 

to add to their number. Mrs. [^sicZe.] Your married name, dear 1 

You must tell me now, you know. • 

Mrs. F. \_Aside.'\ I dare not ! 

Mrs. M. \_Asid€.^ You must ! I can't present you as a "Miss." 

Mrs. F. {In a half whisper. 1 Fitzherbert, ma'am. 

Mrs. M. [Surprised.'^ Mrs. Fitzherbert ! 

Filz. [ Who has turned at the name down k. of Mrs Fitzheebkrt.] 
Lucy I my wife! 

Mrs. M. His wife I 

Mer. I'm satisfied ! [Rowley whistles. 

Fitz. Am I brought here to be mortified — mystified — made a fool off 

Mer. [Aside to Aim.] No, sir, only to be read a lesson to. 

Mrs. F. Indeed — indeed, dear, I kept our secret ; did I not, Mr 
Merry weather 1 

Mer. You did, Lucy. It was I who surprised it by an accident, Mr. 
Fitzherbert. I and my wife called at your lodgings to return some 
papers which yoa left here this morning — no doubt by mistake— here 
they are. [ Gives him papers. 

Fitz. [Aside."] My bills — cancelled ! The verses from the bouquet 1 

Mer. Discovering the treasure this jealous poet kept hid from all of 
us, we determined, by this little trick, to teach him that a man's wife 
is not all his own property, but a blessing that his friends have some 
claim to share. [Aside to Fitzherbert.] I was not the first, you 
know, to put the doctrine in practice. 

Mrs. F. Herbert, dearest, you are not angry with your poor Lucy 1 

Fitz. No, Lucy — it is not anger that keeps me silent ; it is shame — 
it is remorse. 

Mer. Remorse ! Pooh ! that's too strong a term. Of course, gentle- 
men, you don't suppose there was any truth in my wife's picture of the 
husband. 

Row. No ; that was our fun. 

nr j' [■ Oh, of course — capital — ha, ha, ha ! 

I" They go up a little. 

Mrs. M. [Aside] And this is the man for whom I had almost for- 
gotten the duties of a wife ! George! [Merryweather ^roes ;^o /i<r, J 
I have been weak, wicked, mad. How I have misjudged this mxa. !— • 
how I have misjudged you 1 

Row. But here comes our hero of the unmentionables ' 



VICTIMS. 43 

Re-enter Bcttkrby with Miss Crank on his arm, r. c. Curdle 
following discomfited. Guests all follow on. 

Butter. Yes, here I am, by Jove ! All is explained. It's a case of 
set do^ one and carry one — eh, Curdle 1 

Onrd. I call it a case of subtraction. 

Mrs. M. My dear friends, I congratulate you. But here is a new 
member of our happy circle — Miss Crane, Mr. Butterby — Mrs. Fitz- 
herbert. 

[Me. and Mrs. Meertweather and Rowley go up a little. 

Butter. [Aside.'] The undulating milliner, by Jove 1 

Mrs. F. [Aside.li The silly man ! 

Miss C. What means this agitation, Joshua ? I thought that now, 
at least, our horizon was all serene. 

Butter. Nothing ; merely my felicity ! — it's too colossal to carry 
steadily — by Jove, it is ! [Aside to Mrs. Fitzherbert.] Don't say 
anything, for mercy's sake, till I'm married. [Passes her over to Miss 
Crane.] Allow me to introduce you to Miss Crane. [Aside to Fitz- 
herbert.] I stole that card ; it was an act of felony of the most 
despicable description. 

diliss 0. Joshua ! 

Butter. Minerva 1 

[Grosses to her, and all come to their places as before. 

Mer. Well, Emily, you are pensive, my love. 

Mrs. M. Now, for the first time, I feel all the suffering my folly and 
6el5shness have caused you. 
. Mer. He talked so well, Emily, 

Mrs. M. And you knew all — his selfishness, his embarrassments, 
and never betrayed the one, or took advantage of the other! O 
George, you are good and great, and I — I am unworthy of you ! 

[Hides her tears upon his shoulder. 

Mer. [Aside to Rowley, looking over his shoulder I Look at this, 
lack, does this make up for the discomfort of this vnorninor's break« 
fasti 

Row. Egad ! Merryweather, I'll go and get married immediately. 

Mer. Yes, this might tempt, in marriage bonds to mingle 
The sternest bachelor who e'er lived single — 
Such women are 1 

Eow. Query ! 

Mrs. M. Not all, 1 own. 

Butter. Be my Minerva, for example shown, 

Against her sex for strength of mind— 

[Aside.] — and bone I 

i£t)i M. Of married life, our cases prove this much, 
AH are not victims, who behave as such — 



rf VICTIMS. 

Ifrs. F, While many a victim wears the marriage chain. 

Who never feels — 
Fitz. Or never tells the pain. 

Mrs. M. But let your hands give us assurance certain, 

All this night's " Victims" are our side the curtain 



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'Twixt Axe and Crown 



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Never Too Late to Mend 

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Led Astray 

Henry V., new version 

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How She Loves Him 
Our Socii'ty 
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P.iiulcss Dentistry 
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Love and Honor 

On the Ci>de 

Mary's Dream 

Fsmo 



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Bathing 

An Old Score 

My Sister from India 

r>5aria Aiartiu 

Among the Relics 

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An Cld Man 

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Our Nelly 

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Keep \our Kye on Her 

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False Alarm 

Up in tlie World 

Parted 

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Litilo Suiiwiiiiie 



Who'll Lend me a Wife 

Extremes Meet 

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Sweethearts 

Velvet and Rags 

Cut for Partner 

Love s Alarms 

An Appeal to the Feelings 

Tale of a Comet 

Under False Colors 

Heroes 

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Little Vixens 

The Coming Woman 

Telephone 

Too Late to Save 

Just My Luck 

Gr:!teful Father 

Happy Mt'dinm 

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Auld AcquaintiJij 

Wfods 

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L'eutist's Clerk 



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